


like slow spinning redemption

by shuhannon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Rey - Freeform, Death Eater Kylo Ren, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Figure out the rest later, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Opposites Attract, POE HOE ACTIVATED, Ravenclaw Ben Solo, Rey acts first and thinks later, Sex In A Cave, Sex first, Slytherin Rey, The wizarding world is at WAR, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuhannon/pseuds/shuhannon
Summary: With the Wizarding World on the brink of war, a young Auror named Rey had expected many things. Late night shifts, getting thrust into battles, and putting all of her training and education to the test.What she hadn't counted on, was crossing paths with an old classmate from her Hogwarts days, on the opposite side of the battlefield.TLDR: rey's an auror. kylo ren is a death eater. they're idiots who fall in love.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 183
Kudos: 315
Collections: The Perfect Date - Pink Ladies Spring Exchange





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JadeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeLight/gifts).



> for katara. hope you like it!

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

Things weren’t supposed to go this way. The lines weren’t meant to become this blurred. In times of war there were always two sides; a clear definition of right and wrong. The lines had been drawn in the sand, and those who stood with you, wands at the ready, were your brothers in arms.

Those across the line were your enemies. The wizards you had to fight, who stood against everything you loved and held true to your heart.

There was never meant to be a gray area. There was never supposed to be a common middle ground.

There especially was never meant to be anything resembling love.

***

He was ahead of her by a few years at Hogwarts. He was quiet, sullen and seemed to always be sitting off on his own, away from the other members of his house. Everyone seemed to give him a wide berth, staff and students alike. 

Yet for some reason, her eyes were always drawn to him. She found herself always scanning the corridors for the familiar hunch of his broad shoulders, or to spot the back of his head, bent as he scribbled furiously on some parchment during the evening feast. 

“Who’s that?” She remembers asking at breakfast during her first week. A tall girl with cropped blonde hair sits beside her, a third-year, Rey thinks. “Who?” She turns, her expression reserved and bored. “Oh, that’s Ben Solo.” She offers nothing else, and instead turns back to stabbing sausages with her fork.

Ben Solo. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

***

He’s in his fifth year when she’s in her third. That’s the same year she finally makes the Quidditch team. She plays seeker, and she loves it; the rush and thrill of diving for your snitch at the very last possible moment. Not to mention that she thrives off of the pressure. The seeker has the ability to make or break the game, depending on when the snitch is caught and how many points each side has.

The air has begun to turn crisp and cool, the leaves of the Forbidden Forest have just begun to change. She’s out on the Quidditch pitch, practicing dive after dive. The rest of her team have already turned in, calling it a night after a particularly grueling first practice.

She’s enchanted walnuts to fling into the air at random intervals. At first, it seems to work. She’s diving, catching each walnut time and time again. Except then she speeds up the process, and the walnuts begin to whip through the air, smacking her in her thighs, her shoulders, her face.

Struggling against the assault, Rey reaches for her wand, drawing it from her pocket and blindly aiming towards the walnuts. “ _Immobulus_ !” She shouts to no avail. “ _Immobulus_!” 

The magic doesn’t work. Her spells either keep missing their target, or she’s lacking the concentration to conjure the magic. 

She’s just flying now, her hands gripping the handle of the school-owned broom that she had been using since tryouts. It gets the job done, though it’s not exactly the definition of dependable. Still, she bobs and weaves, accelerating up towards the sky before tipping downwards into a nosedive, attempting to throw the walnuts off her trail.

After all, the spell can’t last forever. 

It certainly feels like forever, though. A slow drizzle begins to fall, but it’s not long before it’s coming down in steady, fat drops. Her body begins to ache, and she tries to tell her grip to relax, that she’s dodged bludgers that pack more of a punch than some bloody walnuts, and she’s played Quidditch in the rain. This is nothing. A minor discomfort. Yet, suddenly, the whole situation feels overwhelming. It feels like it's just all becoming too much, and as another walnut makes contact with her cheek, she lets out a sharp cry.

At this point, the rain is falling so hard that Rey can’t decipher if tears are even falling from her eyes. She can barely see through the now heavy downpour. Reaching for her wand once more, her broom gives a lurch and she feels the wood begin to slip from her grasp.

Immediately, Rey dives after it, blindly reaching forward, not even trying to dodge the walnuts as they begin to pepper her body with stinging welts. She just keeps reaching, keeps straining her hand further and further, hoping to feel the smooth feeling of ash beneath her fingertips. 

Instead, she gets a smart smack from a walnut, square in the back of her hand. She lets out another cry, as Rey tries to pull her broom out of the dive. She’s nearly at a standstill now, just hovering in the air as defeat washes over her. The walnuts continue their assault, and Rey takes to just batting them away, knowing her choice of defense is utterly useless. 

“ _Immobulus_!” A loud, booming voice echoes through the air, clear despite the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. 

A dome of light is cast over the Quidditch pitch, rendering everything in the air still, as if it had suddenly been frozen in time. Walnuts and raindrops alike are deemed immobile, and for a moment, Rey forgets the pain of her hand, and instead can merely just look around, gawking at the beauty of it all.

The raindrops instead look as if they had been rendered from glass, just hovering in the air. She can’t help but to reach out and touch one, to gently proud a droplet with the pad of her finger, and is surprised at how soft, and, well, _wet_ it feels.

Rey almost has to laugh. Because of course, it would still be wet. It wasn’t truly frozen, not in the muggle sense of the word, where the temperature was involved. Instead, it was just suspended, paused in its descent.

Suddenly she turns her head, remembering the reason for the spell to begin with. 

That’s when she sees _him_.

Of course, it would be Ben Solo.

His hair is soaked, sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. He’s wearing muggle clothes; a dark jumper and jeans, no jacket in sight. 

“What are you doing out here?” He barks with authority, and Rey only then remembers how he had been announced as a prefect that year. 

Suddenly, she has a gut feeling that she’s about to lose her house some points.

“It’s not curfew yet.” Rey blurts out as she lands, her feet touching down on the damp earth. “It’s not even that late out.”

“You’re unsupervised, alone in the rain-” His eyes flicker down to the broom in her hand. “Using school property.” He raises his wand. “Accio broom-”

“ _No_!” Rey’s grip tightens on the thick handle of the old Cleansweep model, and instead of it flying out of her grasp and into his outstretched hand, she is instead dragged, her heels digging into the softened ground, leaving a trail of uprooted grass in her wake. 

Before she can blink, Rey is standing before him, her chin tilted and her fingers still curled around the broom, her knuckles growing pale. Except now his hand has joined hers, just half a finger’s length away.

It looks as if they’re about to break out into a game of tug of war over the worn broomstick that would probably not get more than a couple of galleons in Diagon Alley. 

Ben raises an eyebrow in response.

“I just- I mean-” She pauses, huffing out a breath as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her socks feeling damp beneath her soaking wet canvas sneakers. “This is the best of the school brooms, alright? There’s only a handful of us that have to use the school-issued ones for Quidditch, and most of them are wonky. They jerk you around, they don’t listen and they’re just- they’re shit, okay? Except this one isn’t that bad and I just-”

Rey’s rambling. The words have poured out of her mouth and her cheeks begin to flush. All she wants to do is for the earth to open up beneath her feet and swallow her alive. She would rather face the Whomping Willow than to go through this torture.

“Slytherin’s first match is on Saturday.” He cuts her off, and Rey is so taken aback, that all she can do is nod her head. Her chin is still tilted upwards, and belatedly she realizes, this is the closest they have ever been.

It makes her body feel flustered and warm. Her palm once more begins to sweat, and Rey adjusts the grip on the broomstick, only to feel her finger brush against his.

She swallows, practically makes an audible gulp, as a shiver runs down her spine. All she wants is to look away, but she finds her own eyes fixated upon his and his burning stare.

“It’s against Ravenclaw.” Ben carries on, as if nothing had happened. But then Rey realizes that nothing _did_ happen. Their knuckles touched. The same thing happens on a daily basis to her in the Great Hall, when she’s fighting for the last Yorkshire pudding.

Her brow furrows as she opens her mouth, about to ask him to get to the point already, to dock points if he’s going to take them from her house.

But instead, he simply lets go of the broom and steps back. Instantly she feels the loss of his presence, and the dampness of her clothes feels cold.

“You should get to the hospital wing. Have Madame Che take a look at your face.” He taps his cheek, and instinctively Rey raises her hand to her own. Sure enough her fingertips run over a small bump beneath her eye. It’s tender to the touch, the skin most likely already a mottling of purplish hues. 

He turns to go but Rey takes a few hasty steps forward. “Wait-” She calls after him, belatedly realizing she has no idea what she wants to say. “Aren’t you-” She fidgets, biting the inside of her cheek and pushing wet strands of hair away from her forehead, her cheeks. “Aren’t you going to dock points? Give me detention?”

His footsteps pause, and he turns to face her, a smirk twitching at the corners of his lips. “Why would I?” He counters back, and Rey can only gape at the teasing nature of his tone, at the way his face begins to relax, as he treats her like they’re old pals. Like this is a typical Thursday night.

“You’re not out after curfew, you’re not breaking any rules, Niima.”

Then he laughs. It’s quiet, a small, dry chuckle beneath his breath as if he’s finding amusement in some private thought of his own.

He walks off of the pitch, and simultaneously, the spell is undone. Raindrops and walnuts fell to the earth with a great tremor, rendering Rey caught in the downpour once more.

But Rey finds she doesn’t care as she scans the grounds of the pitch for her wand, or even after she has found it, as she begins to pick up each and every walnut by hand.. All she can focus on is the sound of his voice saying Niima, and the fact that he knew her name.

***

Their paths don’t cross again for a long time. She still always looked for him, always kept her eyes peeled for a mop of dark hair and a pair of golden brown eyes. But she had friends and classes to keep her busy, Hogsmeade trips on the weekends and Quidditch practices late into the evenings, three times a week.

Yet some nights, as she lies in bed, the dormitory dark and full of the sounds of soft snores and rhythmic breathing of her roommates, all Rey could think of was the way her surname had sounded rolling off his tongue, the shake of his shoulders, and the upward turn of his lips.

She would fall asleep with nothing but images of Ben Solo, immobilized raindrops, and walnuts floating through her mind.

***

He graduates during her fifth year. She’s swamped with O.W.L.'s, has a heavier course load, and it seems that all everyone can think of, students and professors alike, is life after Hogwarts.

Except, Rey doesn’t want Hogwarts to end. She doesn’t want to walk away from her first true home, the only place she had ever felt accepted and safe, in exchange for the uncertainty of impending adulthood.

Where would she even go? She needed money to rent a flat, needed a job to have money. Would she be booted back to the muggle world come June, meant to live one more year in foster care until she was eighteen, and thus aged out of the system?

It seems no one has any answers for her. Her friends keep reassuring her time and time again that they wouldn’t let that happen, while her professors tell Rey time and time again that she has a promising future, and not to fret.

None of their answers are concrete. None of it means anything, so finally she breaks down and makes an appointment with the Headmistress.

If anyone could help her, if anyone could give her a proper answer, well, it would be Professor Organa.

As she approaches, a statue of a gargoyle rotates, revealing a spiral stone staircase. Taking this as a sign that she should come up, she begins her slow ascent. Only around the first turn, does Rey hear the sound of approaching footsteps, each one hasty and heavy. A figure approaches her, head bent and brow furrowed, not watching where they’re going.

His shoulder bumps into hers, and Rey’s bag jostles from her shoulder, books and quills and spare bits of parchment flying everywhere.

“Fucking hell-” Rey recognizes that voice and she freezes as her eyes snap to the boy with broad shoulders and a mess of dark hair.

He doesn’t apologize, but instead bends over and begins to quickly gather her things up. Rey drops to her knees, her balance awkward on the staircase as she mimics his actions, trying to shove as many things as she can back into her bag.

“I thought the stairs were opening for me-” She begins to blabber, trying to erase the thick tension in the air with her useless words. “I didn’t know someone was coming down-”

“Yeah, well, watch where you’re going next time, Niima.” He mutters, his words as sour as his expression. She pauses, once again taken aback by the fact he knows her name, that he uses it so casually as if they were a part of each other’s lives.

She frowns at his tone, her hand hovering over a discarded quill. “Watch where I’m going? You’re the one who came barreling into me-”

“You were blocking the entire staircase!”

“I told you, I didn’t know anyone was coming down. Maybe if you actually picked your head up-”

They bicker, shooting arguments back and forth, all while both hastily reaching for the last of her things. There’s a jar of ink left, and Rey’s hand darts out to grab it, but Ben’s too quick. His larger fingers curl around the bottle. He picks it up, but doesn’t hand it over.

They both stand in unison. Rey adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder, her other hand outstretched, waiting and impatient.

She’s about to say something, a biting remark about if he’s been kissed by a dementor, when the sound of a woman’s voice causes the insult to catch on the tip of her tongue.

“Miss Niima, I’m ready for our meeting now.” Professor Organa calls from her office above. Rey’s cheeks flush, and she can only wonder how much of the exchange their headmistress had heard. 

Shooting Ben a final glare, she turns on her heel. “Yes, coming Professor!” She calls, as she makes her way up the rest of the staircase, leaving Ben Solo to just stand there in her wake.

She forgets all about the final bottle of ink, doesn’t think about it anymore. She certainly does not see him looking down upon the small jar for just a moment, before he slips it into the pockets of his robes.

In fact, Rey doesn’t remember the bottle of ink at all until her final night at Hogwarts, when she stumbles into her dormitory after the end of year feast, and sees a brand new bottle of ink on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed. She smiles, thinking it’s a gift from one of her roommates or friends, but does not think to ask them about it. No, instead she slips it into her trunk, amongst her textbooks and cauldron, to stay safe during her journey back to Kings Cross the next morning.

***

War breaks out during her seventh year. 

No one sees it coming, yet in retrospect, the signs are all there. A wizard name Snoke had been stirring trouble for the Ministry for ages, slowly gaining followers and power throughout the years. No one had seen it as a true threat though. No one had known what he was capable of, of the death and destruction he would inflict upon the wizarding and muggle worlds alike.

It makes Rey itch to graduate, to get accepted into the Auror program, and begin her training. 

She studies harder than she ever had in her life. Each headline of the prophet, discussing another outbreak at Azkaban or another life taken, is the fuel to the fire that grows in the bottom of her belly.

Quidditch is canceled for the year, and though there are shouts and boos of protest coming from her fellow students, Rey can’t help but feel a bit of relief. That’s one less thing on her plate, one less activity to take away from studying for her N.E.W.T.’s.

She ends up receiving O’s and E’s on nearly everything. Professor Skywalker helps her draft an application to the Auror program, and she waits for weeks, eyes scanning for the familiar sight of her white owl, Do.

“You’ll get in.” She turns her head to see Professor Skywalker himself, passing by her house table as he makes his way to the back of the Great Hall.

“I had three O’s and only two E’s-” She begins to protest, but is silenced by the older man’s hand on his shoulder. “Rey, you’ll get in.” He repeats, his voice firm and his piercing blue eyes holding a strong gaze that left little to argue with.

In retrospect, she should have listened to him, because he was telling the truth.

Maybe the Ministry was desperate for new recruits. Maybe they wanted to bulk up the number of Aurors to help with the fight against Snoke. Whatever the reason, Rey didn’t care. She was accepted. She was in.

***

She graduates from Hogwarts and within a few days, she is settling into her new apartment, a small flat in a quiet neighborhood in London, set up by the Department of Housing within the Ministry. She has two roommates, a pair of sisters who also work for the Ministry. Paige and Rose Tico are opposite in personalities, yet also both courteous and nice. They make for the perfect roommates, the type who are easy to talk to yet don’t overstep any boundaries.

Not that she sees them much, because once training begins, Rey feels that all she is doing is brushing up on potions, running through training exercises and being pushed to the brink of exhaustion.

It doesn’t help that the war is growing, slowly inching closer and closer to home. Some have gone into hiding, others have fled the country. Hogwarts is still open, but she overhears that the number of students attending is down for the first time in decades.

Everything drives Rey to work harder. The Auror training is being accelerated, and so many of her fellow cadets begin to drop out, unable to cope.

“It’s for the best,” one of her instructors says. “If you can’t handle this, then this really isn’t the right career path for you.”

The remaining members of Rey’s class graduate by the spring. There’s no ceremony, no after-party. They’re all too exhausted to even think about celebrating. 

Besides, tomorrow the real work begins.

***

She has been an Auror for two years when she sees his face again. 

It’s during a briefing at work. They’re discussing someone high up within Snoke’s ranks. His newly appointed right-hand man. Kylo Ren, he’s called, and they finally have a face to go with the name. New flyers have been made, each with the face of wanted members of the First Order, including Snoke’s latest protege. She skims through them, her eyes raving over the moving pictures, taking in their gaunt faces, looking for any physical features that separate them from the rest.

But as she rifles through the pages, she feels her blood turn cold and her heartbeat stop at the sight of a familiar face moving across the parchment, his mouth wide, and his features contorted into a silent scream.

She gasps, the sound ringing out throughout the room.

A few heads turn, their gaze curious as they peer over at Rey. She feels her face flush, and she instantly scrambles to hand the flyers to the person beside her. Except for his. She pulls the piece of parchment underneath the table, and folds it, before tucking it into the pocket of her robes.

The moment she can, Rey slips from the room. She keeps walking through the ministry, her pace quick and her mind still reeling. Ducking down a small, nearly forgotten corridor, she leans her back against the cool, tiled wall. After making certain that the coast is clear, then and only then does she remove the flyer from her robes with shaking fingers.

_‘WANTED’_ It read in bold, thick letters. Her eyes began to scan the rest of the letters.

_KYLO REN - KNOWN MEMBER OF THE FIRST ORDER - SUSPECTED MURDERER_

Her fingertips brush against his moving picture, and Rey is taken aback by the surge of strong emotion that she feels.

So he’s Kylo Ren now. Ben Solo, no more. Another victim, another casualty of war.

_This is stupid_ , Rey can’t help but to think. _She’s_ being stupid. It’s stupid to get this worked up over, what? A boy she had a crush on, once upon a time? Someone that she’s had two interactions with, that she hasn’t heard about, hasn’t seen in years…

It feels as if her heart was being squeezed, as if there was a foot being pressed upon her chest, adding more and more pressure until she finds it hard to breathe.

Because despite the wanted poster, despite the evidence looking at her straight in the eye, she just can’t believe it. She can’t imagine the boy who had saved her from walnuts, who had knocked over her bag, but stopped to help clean up her things, who she had spent so much time looking for, out of the corner of her eye and thinking about could be… could be…

KNOWN MEMBER OF THE FIRST ORDER - SUSPECTED MURDERER

Her eyes read over the bold letters, tracing over each and every one. Slowly she pushes herself off the wall, gives a small shake of her head.

She can’t be doing this. She can’t feel pity, can’t fall apart because a childhood crush went down the wrong path. He is the enemy and she… she is the line of defense for the wizarding world. She had taken an oath, had sworn to protect those who could not protect themselves.

Rey takes one last look at the poster before she pulls her wand from her robes. “ _Incendo_ .” She murmurs, and a small flame shoots from the tip of her wand. It licks at the edge of the parchment, before it quickly begins to eat away, devouring the promise of a reward, the words ‘ _DANGEROUS! DO NOT APPROACH!_ ’ and finally, at the face of the man himself.

Rey watches as his moving image is rendered into nothing but flecks of ash. She watches his plush lips disappear, followed by his mole spattered cheeks. She watches the flames as they consume him, bit by bit. And finally, when there’s nothing left but a pile of ash on the stone tiled floor, Rey tells herself that enough is enough. 

The past is the past.

Ben Solo is as good as dead. Kylo Ren stands in his place now.

She points her wand and cleans up the last of the mess.

***

A curfew has been set in place, and most nights Rey is sent out to follow leads about those not abiding by it. It’s mostly boring work. Lots of apparating and watching. Lots of waiting.

But that’s alright. Rey has had practice at waiting.

One night she’s perched on the flat of a roof to a nearby building, keeping her eyes peeled at the London docks. Their informant said someone was trying to deal illegal dragon eggs, breaking curfew as well as breaking a handful of other laws.

Of course, she has nothing to do but wait, eyes peeled despite how heavy her lids feel. Her sleep had been disrupted by an emergency call to the Ministry, for a briefing that Rey is pretty certain could have been summarized in an owl, or even a floo powder meeting.

The sound of a loud _crack_ is heard from somewhere behind her. It jolts her from her thoughts, and she turns, wand at the ready, her eyes narrowed as she tries to see across the dimly lit rooftop. 

She’s debating over whether using _lumos_ will blow her cover or not, when a man steps from the shadows, lowering the hood of his cloak, his hands held up, empty as if to say ‘I come in peace.’

“ _Professor Skywalker_?” Rey baffles at her old teacher, and she has half the mind to run to him and pull him into an embrace. She’s taken a couple steps forward, a smile spread across her cheeks before she remembers her training.

She raises her wand once more, as she studies the man wearily. “What were the last words you said to me before I left Hogwarts?”

He smirks in response. “I believe I told you to trust your gut, and that you were going to make a great auror.”

Rey’s body relaxes, as her arm falls slowly to her side. “Professor Skywalker it’s so good to see you-“

He raises a hand again, as if to silence her. Though his face is still kind, there’s a hardness in his eyes. “Rey, I need to talk with you. It is of the utmost importance-“

“Then let’s talk!” She interrupts but he shakes his head.

“We need a more…. _secure_ location. Somewhere we can’t be overheard.” He pauses. “When is your next day off?”

“Tuesday. But that’s three days away-“

He shakes his head, glances over his shoulder before he moves closer to Rey. “No, no that will work. I’ll get the details to you. But Rey, just-“ He reaches out, his hands taking hold of her upper arms, his grasp tight. “You can’t trust anyone.”

Then he steps back, and apparates away with a sharp crack, his voice still echoing in her ears.

_You can’t trust anyone._

***

Rey doesn’t know what she’s expecting. An owl perhaps. Maybe for her old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to appear in her fireplace. 

What she doesn’t expect is for one of the other aurors, a man with curly dark hair and an easy grin, to slip her a piece of folded parchment, as if they’re passing notes in the corridor at school.

She takes the paper but turns her head, her brow furrowed in confusion. The man, who Rey thinks is named Dameron, offers her a wink before he turns to disappear into the crowd of bustling Ministry employees.

Rey makes a beeline for the restroom. She clambers into a stall, the door clanging shut behind her, and with shaking hands, she unfolds the piece of yellowing parchment.

The words, _Number 12 Grimmauld Place at 9 pm_ are written in a messy scrawl.

Grimmauld Place. Grimmauld Place. 

But that’s in… London, over by the Borough of Islington. Do they want to meet her in London?

She’s too busy thinking over the logistics of it all, that she misses the paper suddenly curling up, as it catches fire. The flames spread, devouring the scrap of parchment until they lick at the tips of her fingers. “Ow!” Rey shakes her singed fingertips, before sucking on them, trying to soothe the burns away.

The sound of a toilet flushing beside her jars her from her thoughts. Remembering where she is, that she still has a job to do, paperwork to file and assignments to report on, Rey moves to leave the stall.

But even hours later, as she’s hunched over her desk, quill in hand, she’s still musing over the note. Part of her is tempted to try and find Dameron, the auror who had passed it to her.

Shaking her head, she shifts in her seat. No, she just needs to be patient. Tuesday will be here soon.

***

The rest of the workweek drags on. Rey’s feeling on edge by the time Tuesday rolls around. Her hands won’t stop shaking, and she drops her favorite mug, the ceramic breaking with a crack as it collides with the wooden floor.

It’s fixed with a simple _repairo_ , and Rey fills it with steaming hot chocolate and piles on extra marshmallows. 

She tries to keep busy. She does things the muggle way, doing her laundry, folding it and putting it away by hand rather than enchantment. Same with the dishes and the sweeping. It keeps her hands occupied and her mind busy, and most importantly, it fills up her time.

Soon enough the sky is growing dark and the hands on the clock are indicating it's a quarter to nine.

“I’m going out!” Rey calls to Rose, who's seated at the small kitchen table, piles of books all around her. Paige, she assumes is still at work.

“Where are you off to?” Her roommate asks with a smile, and Rey rushes to respond, the answer having already been rehearsed and ready on the tip of her tongue.

“Just out to grab some drinks with old friends from school.”

“Have fun.” Rose wishes her before tilting her chin down to resume her reading.

Rey slips out of the apartment, and once she’s a couple blocks away, she ducks into a dark alley to apparate across the city.

Grimmauld Place did not look welcoming in the slightest. The street was growing dark, it’s gloomy atmosphere aided by the grimy fronts of the brownstones that lined the street. The streetlights cast an eerie, yellow glow and Rey found herself unable to ignore the gut feeling that was telling her to run, to flee.

But despite Professor Skywalker’s warning, Rey trusted him. After all, it had been Luke who had recommended the auror career path, back during her earliest days of Hogwarts. Luke who had helped coach her, who let her study in his office when her dormmates proved to be too loud, the common room too rowdy, and the library too crowded.

He had been the teacher she had confided in when she felt uncertain of her place in the wizarding world. The teacher that she had turned to for help.

She could trust Luke Skywalker.

Slowly, she walks down the street, her eyes scanning over the dull, brass numbers that were attached to each front door. Eight, nine, ten, eleven and… thirteen?

Frowning, her footsteps slow. She ducks down, pretends to tie her shoelace all while glancing towards the row of townhomes again. Sure enough, ten, eleven and then it jumps right over twelve, to number thirteen.

Her mind begins to race with options. The house could be under the fidelius charm, hidden unless the Secret Keeper gave away its location. Or maybe it had another enchantment. Maybe she needed to try and apparate directly to the location, though that always proved to be tricky. It definitely increased the odds of splinching.

Or maybe this was a trick, a trap. Maybe she should have trusted her gut instinct. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here at all.

“Looks like rain.” 

Rey looks up at the sound of the familiar voice. Slowly she stands, brushing her palms against the side of her legs. The sight of Luke Skywalker washes away some of her concerns, though she can’t shake the feeling that’s causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention.

“Yeah.” She agrees, tilting her face up towards the sky. The sun has long ago set, but the sky has been covered with thick, dark clouds. She turns to say something else, only to see Luke’s retreating form.

Moving after him, Rey’s question falls silent on her tongue as she notices a strange device that looks like an oversized cigarette lighter, in the professor’s hand. 

“Is that a-” Her words trail off, as Luke flicks his thumb over the mechanism. One by one, with every click, the lights from the lampposts shoot out, disappearing into the deluminator. Luke must have caught her quizzical glance, for her offers up a small shrug, followed by a single word, “Muggles.”

Rey watches and waits, her impatience growing. Only once every streetlight has been extinguished, does Luke turn towards her. “You got my message, I’m assuming? That’s what led you here.”

Silently she nods. 

“Alright, Rey. I need you to think about those words. I need you to focus on what was written on that parchment and nothing else.”

So she does just that. She thinks of the messy scrawl, of the slant of each letter and the way they had been written in haste, each word on a slow uphill climb across the parchment. 

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Number 12 Grimmauld Place._

When she opens her eyes, she’s surprised to see that there’s an additional townhome. No longer do the house numbers jump from eleven to thirteen. No, now number twelve stands in its rightful place.

It looks identical to the other houses, with the same dark and grim exterior. More questions have begun to fill her mind, but Luke barks that they’re late, and he’s leading the way forward, through the small iron gate and up the front steps.

He knocks his wand against the solid, black door that perhaps could use a lick of paint. The sound of a multitude of locks unlocking themselves can be heard, before the front door swung open, allowing a small stream of light to shine through.

“Inside.” Luke mutters before he’s shoving Rey forward, his hand firmly in the center of the shoulder blades. She stumbles inside, hears her old professor fumbling with something behind them, which Rey assumes is the deluminator, before he too is stepping into the house, the door shutting firmly behind them.

They stand in a foyer of an old house, with small airs of grandeur such as the chandelier hanging above their heads, and the intricate design of the wooden staircase banister. The floors gleam with black and white marble and portraits line the walls. 

Once again Rey turns to ask Luke questions and once again she finds him walking away, already halfway down the hallway. He disappears into an adjacent room, and for once, Rey doesn’t hurry after him.

Instead, she takes her time, breathing in every small detail that she can. Most of the portraits are moving, mumbling and talking about himself.

“Disgrace.”

“Just like his grandfather.”

“Powers too strong. Bloodline was corrupted. Knew she should have never married a-”

“Would have drowned him as a young babe, just at the sight of his ears. Nothing good could have come from a boy with ears-”

As she approaches the room in which Professor Skywalker had disappeared into, Rey hears voices, but of a different kind. She rounds the corner, walks through the doorway, and is met with a group of individuals, all crowded into a small sitting room.

A quick survey reveals some familiar faces. There’s Mon Mothma and Gial Ackbar, both professors that Rey had while at Hogwarts. The auror that gave her the note is there too, what’s his name Dameron leans against the bookshelf beside the fireplace, posture at ease, a smirk on his lips.

There are other witches and wizards from school, those that Rey knew by face and name but not much else. Finn Storms is seated on the couch, who had been a year ahead of her, but in Ravenclaw house. Beside him is Kaydel Ko Connix, who had been in the same year as Rey, but in Gryffindor.

“Welcome, Rey.” The words flow through the air, warm and maternal. She turns, her gaze drawn to the woman who had spoken.

“Professor Organa-“

“You’re not a student anymore, Miss Niima. You may call me Leia.” The older woman offers her a warm smile, and Rey gives a small nod of her head, though the idea of calling her former headmistress by her first name is perhaps the scariest thing to come out of this whole night.

Slowly Rey turns, looking around the room. She still didn’t understand why she was here. She didn’t know what was going on.

“I’m sorry, but I feel as if I’m missing something. Like everyone else is in on the joke except for me.”

“Rey,” Luke steps forward, places a hand on her shoulder. “I would like to introduce you to the members of the Resistance.”

Her eyes snap to his. “The Resistance?” She had heard the name mentioned before. But they were a group of vigilantes, of wizards trying to take the law into their own hands and getting in over their heads during the process.

“Rey.” Now Leia is moving towards her. “We would like you to join us. To become part of the Resistance.”

***

Over tea and biscuits, Rey is told about the Resistance. She’s given the group’s history, told of how it had been formed decades prior, during the first war.

“We fought against a dark wizard named Palpatine.”

“I’ve heard about him.” Rey shifts in her chair. “During our auror training, they discussed how Palpatine tried to overthrow the ministry for his own dictatorship. He worked with another wizard, someone who called himself Darth Vader.”

She took a sip from her mug, missing the quick look that Luke and Leia shared.

“Snoke was a follower of Palpatine,” Leia explains. “He somehow slipped through the cracks, made himself scarce and began to rebuild.”

“And now he’s a threat, one as big as Palpatine’s empire, perhaps even worse.”

“So what is it that you want me to do?” Rey asks, fingers curling around the body of her mug. “I mean, I’m already an auror. They have us out following whatever leads we can, doing stakeouts.”

Luke leans forward, his elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “We believe Snoke has infiltrated the Ministry. We just don’t know how high up it goes. Besides, the Ministry’s hands are tied, or at least that’s how they act. They’re putting out fires after they’re started. They think of Snoke as a threat, but either not one they’re taking seriously or they have a rat feeding them the wrong information.”

It’s a lot to process, and Rey swallows, her mind racing.

“Didn’t you think it was odd, that they closed Auror recruitment?” Dameron adds, adjusting his arms across his chest. Poe. She had learned that his first name was Poe. “We’re at war, yet after your class graduated they stopped taking applications. We’re stretched thin, and we’re not even fighting. We’re following cold leads and being led on wild goose chases.”

“The Ministry said that they had to redirect the funds-” Already her mind was reeling, and her words were already sounding like, well, an excuse. And not even a good one at that.

The pieces were slowly falling into place. It was as if a thinly veiled fog had been lifted from her mind, and she was realizing how foolish she had been, how quick to believe every excuse the Ministry had fed its employees.

Looking from Poe, to Luke, to Leia, Rey shifts forward until she’s seated on the edge of the sofa. “What do you need me to do?”

***

Her days just become busier at that point out. Between actual shifts at the ministry and now her newly added meetings with the Resistance, Rey begins to feel stretched thin. By the third week of pulling double duty, Rey feels like a slug merely going through the motions. 

She’s fallen asleep twice at her desk twice, dozed on the couch after Resistance meetings, and missed not just a lunch date with Rose, but the rescheduled lunch date as well.

“You need to cut it out.” Poe Dameron tells her, hovering by her desk on a Tuesday afternoon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rey insists, her head ducked and her shoulders hunched as she focuses on the report in front of her. The same report that she has been working on for the past two hours and only has about four sentences written. 

For a moment the only sound between them is the scratching of Rey’s quill upon the parchment.

“You’re going to get noticed. You’re burning your candle at both ends, and it’s obvious.”

Rey juts her chin but remains quiet. What is there to say? She knows he’s telling the truth, but she’s too stubborn to admit defeat. Not yet.

Finally she glances towards him. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll figure something out.”

Poe seems to study her for a moment, his arms folded across his chest. He offers nothing more than a small nod before he turns and leaves.

***

Eventually she figures out a groove. Her body adjusts to the extra workload. She begins to sleep at Grimmauld Place some nights after meetings, to save against the commute home. Rose and Paige begin to tease her, wondering if she’s seeing someone. Rey keeps her responses purposefully vague. Dealing with her roommates' sly comments is an easy out. She doesn’t have to think of a cover story, because one has been provided for her.

Work at the Ministry has, for the most part, stayed steady without much change. They keep getting ‘leads’, which the Auror teams investigate, but they never seem to lead to anything. Rey can’t say she’s not thankful for the peace and quiet of her assigned stakeouts. They’ve become routine at this point, with every little excitement or action.

In fact, Rey stops waiting for something to happen. She knows nothing ever will.

At one point, her team is sent into the northern mountains of Scotland for a three-day mission. They mostly spend time camping out and taking shifts to watch the ground below. Their tip had said there was a werewolf camp nearby that Snoke’s followers were trying to recruit.

Of course they weren’t actually supposed to _do_ anything. They were to hang back, observe.

It made Rey feel restless, made her fingers feel twitchy.

They took shifts at keeping watch while others slept for a handful of hours here and there. Rey offered to take the first shift, and then she took the second, not bothering to wake up Pammich for her shift. 

Which of course went against the rules. But Rey was wired. She wasn’t going to sleep, so she might as well let her teammate catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. Maybe by then, Rey would be ready to crawl into her sleeping bag and close her eyes. 

The moon shines bright in the sky, waxing gibbous in shape. Close to a full moon but not quite. They would be the last group to have a shift out here. It was getting too close to the full moon, which would make the werewolf camp’s proximity an additional risk that the Ministry wasn’t willing to take.

Rey couldn’t blame them for that. After all, they weren’t doing anything out here other than taking a glorified camping trip on the Ministry’s galleons.

She stands up, wanting to stretch her legs. The fire is growing dim, and she knows she could just use her wand, could mutter a spell and the flames would rise up again. But it feels lazy and useless. Besides, Rey wants to actually do something with her time. There’s nothing happening in these woods tonight. The least she could do is gather some more firewood.

Slipping out of their makeshift camp shrouded with cloaks and protective charms, Rey begins to wander through the trees. She’s cautious, careful to tread lightly and not to make too much noise. Slowly she picks up twigs and sticks, stowing them in the crook of her arm.

It reminds her of her childhood. How all the foster kids in the city would get bused out to the countryside for a couple weeks of summer camp during their break from school. It wasn’t as good as going to Hogwarts, but it made the sweltering heat of July a little more bearable when there was a lake to jump in.

Nostalgia begins to trickle through her mind. Rey thinks of the marshmallows they had roasted, all the stupid songs they had sung. She thinks of the friends she made, and despite how close they go, Rey always felt a distance between them, because she was always hiding something, always vague about details of the ‘really boring boarding school’ in which she attended for the majority of the year.

She bends over, picks up another stick and then another. She follows a trail of fallen twigs, collecting them and musing over how many more she needs. Glancing around, she realizes that she’s wandered farther from camp than she intended. She had been pushing the rules by leaving the safety of their campground, now she’s just being careless. 

Still clutching the bundle of kindling, Rey turns and begins to try and retrace her steps. She couldn’t have gone that far, could she? She looks around, trying to ignore the way her pulse has begun to race, how the beginning feelings of panic have slowly begun to sink in.

_This is stupid_ , she thinks. _You’re a blood auror. You’re trained to take on dark wizards, to defeat dark magic. You can’t be afraid of a walk in the woods._

Rey hears something snap, maybe like a branch underfoot. She turns her head, glances behind her in the dark.

She walks straight into something thick, solid. For a moment she thinks it must have been the trunk of a tree but no, it had been warm.

Rey whips her head forward and is caught off guard by the sight of Kylo Ren.

Of course she recognizes him right away. Despite the longer hair, despite the facial hair he now sports, despite the now sunken appearance of his eyes, highlighted by shadows and bags, making his face somehow appear thinner, the angles of his jaw and nose sharper.

She opens her mouth to scream, but nothing but silence comes out. She drops the twigs, makes a mad dash for her wand.

But he’s faster.

“ _Immobulus_.”

His wand is pointed towards her, and all she can take in is the slight shake of his hand before her body goes completely still, frozen for a moment in time.

Just like the raindrops. Just like the walnuts.

The fact that he had used _that_ spell, the fact that it now felt strangely personal, is enough to make her blood boil. Her body might be immobile, unable to move, unable to blink or even twitch a finger but her mind? Her mind was _reeling_.

He says nothing. For a moment he just studies her, his eyes scanning over her suspended body. Her feet are firmly on the ground, her arm is stuck in the midst of a motion. She had been so close to reaching her wand from its hiding place, inside of her inner jacket pocket. 

Now she’s a sitting duck. Worse than that, she’s a dead giveaway that there could be more people in the woods. All it would take would be one Unforgivable Curse, and she would be leading the fox straight into the hen house.

Minutes pass. They drag on, feeling like hours as Rey wracks her brain for a strategy, for something, anything that she could do. There’s wandless magic, but that’s rare. Even the top aurors sometimes struggle with it, not to mention that it can be hard to control, can easily spiral and cause a bigger mess than the one she’s in.

But what other choice does she have?

She tries to focus. Tries to think about the counter curse, about moving her body. Maybe if she starts with something small. If she could at least unfreeze her hand, she could get her fingers to touch her wand…

He opens his mouth, steps forward as if he’s going to speak. Suddenly she’s back at Hogwarts, a giggling school girl who's distracted by the pretty, older boy that’s mysterious and aloof. He’s giving her a crumb, and suddenly she feels open and willing, ready to gobble up the entire cake.

The sound of distant voices distracts them both.

His head whips around, and had Rey been capable of movement, she was sure hers would be doing the same. The noise is too far away, Rey can’t tell if it’s her colleagues or his. Perhaps it's neither, and they’re closer to the werewolf camp than she had realized.

She goes to shout for help. It’s a knee jerk reaction, a reflex. But her lips do not move. No sound is heard. 

He’s walking towards her now, his strides long and quick. Rey’s eyes begin to dart around in panic. Is that the tips of her fingers can she feel? Or is it just the adrenaline coursing through her veins, playing tricks on her mind because she can’t do anything else.

“Sorry-” She swears she hears him mutter beneath his breath before he raises his wand once more. He says something, another spell but his voice is so low she cannot decipher the words. She’s trying to figure out. Her mind and heartbeat are both racing, the sound of her pulse is drumming in her ears.

Then it all goes quiet as everything turns black.


	2. chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben Solo cross paths in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who gave feedback on this story! crossing the magical world of harry potter with our favorite two space idiots in love has been a lot of fun.
> 
> katara, i'm glad you liked the first chapter, and i hope you continue to enjoy this story.

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

She wakes slowly, as if she’s coming out of a heavy, deep sleep. The kind where you get lost in dreams, unaware of what day it is, what time it is, even where you are.

As Rey blinks away the last fuzzy memories of sleep, she’s surprised to see that she’s somewhere unexpected, not but unfamiliar.

The sight of the sitting room located at number 12 Grimmauld Place is not where Rey expected to wake up. She can’t fathom how she would have even gotten here. Maybe the Resistance had kept an eye on her. Maybe she had just gotten lucky. Either way, a wave of relief washes over her. Here, at least, Rey knows that she’s safe.

Sitting up with a start, her legs swing over the side of the loveseat. Her head is pounding, and for a moment she shuts her eyes, trying to wish the dizziness to go away. Her stomach gives a lurch, and Rey can’t decipher if she’s hungry or nauseous, while her tongue feels as if it was made of cotton, dry and dehydrated, sticking to her teeth and her palette. 

Her feet touch the floorboards, and when she feels confident, Rey moves to stand. She makes it out of the living room and down the corridor, hand on the wall, each movement slow. Her body feels stiff while her mind is still feeling groggy. Perhaps she had been out a lot longer than she thought. Or maybe these are just side effects of whatever spell Solo had used on her. Either way, it was hopefully nothing that a pot of hot tea and perhaps some chocolate could fix.

Reaching forward for the doorknob that led into the kitchen, Rey stopped at the sound of muffled voices filtering through from the other side. One of which sounded like Leia, while the other… the other was harder to place, familiar but in a distant way, like when you saw an actor in a movie, recognized them from somewhere but couldn’t figure out where.

“You shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“I didn’t have any other choice.”

“You are going to blow the entire mission, your cover-”

“So what would you suggest I did? Leave her there?! Let  _ them  _ find her?!”

“No, of course not I just-”

The sound of the argument abruptly stops. Rey freezes, her heartbeat echoing in her ears, as she peers into the kitchen through the small crack of the partially open door. Leia is looking straight at her.

Stumbling back from the door, Rey wonders if she could somehow run down the hallway and make it to the sitting room before she’s been discovered. It’s foolish, considering that Leia had to have seen her. Leia knew someone was eavesdropping, that’s why the argument stopped and-

The kitchen door swings open, but instead of seeing her former headmistress, in the doorway stands Kylo Ren.

No longer does she think of retreating. No, Rey has payback to deliver.

Forgetting her wand, forgetting that she’s a witch and thus capable of magic, Rey reaches forward and strikes Ben, no -  _ Kylo _ \- across the face. Her fingers tingle and ache from where they had connected with his cheek, and the sound of the slap seems to echo, the rest of Grimmauld Place is rendered utterly silent. 

She’s winding up for round two when Leia appears, stepping forward, as if to put herself between the two, as if she was going to protect him. “Rey that is enough.”

“Professor, have you lost your mind?” Rey’s eyes dart back and forth between the two. “He’s dangerous! He’s one of  _ his _ followers! He- he attacked me in the woods-”

“I saved your damn life.” Kylo barks, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer.

“Saved my life?!” She snaps back. “ _ Saved _ my life?! Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re the entire reason I was in danger. Had you not completely fucking frozen me, I would have been fine-”

“You were practically stomping through the woods! A flubberworm would have been able to find you, based on the god damn noise you were making.”

Rey growls in response. Fire is burning through her veins, and she’s already reaching for her wand again, pulling it from her pocket and thrusting the tip of it underneath his chin.

“Enough!” Leia shouts, and her fingers curl around the wrist of Rey’s wand hand, her grip firm. But when she speaks, she addresses Solo first. “Ben, go upstairs. I need to talk to Rey.”

“But-”

“Upstairs.  _ Now _ .” The older woman turns, her eyes flashing dangerously. To Rey’s surprise, Solo seems to swallow his protests and does what he is told, though not without shooting Rey a glare. She narrows her eyes, meeting his gaze with a lifted chin of defiance. They continue to stare at one another, almost as if they’re having a silent standoff, until Ben’s forced to look away as he rounds the corner of the corridor.

Rey shouldn’t feel victorious but she does.

Leia drops her hold and turns to go into the kitchen. Pocketing her wand, Rey follows. She stands there, feeling lost and uncertain, yet also a bit foolish for getting into an immature bickering match with a well-known member of the First Order.

“Professor, I don’t understand why Solo is here. Is this a trap? Are you turning him over to the Ministry?”

“Sit, Miss Niima.”

“Professor-”

“ _ Sit _ .” Leia’s order is firm, and Rey knows better than to argue. She slips into the nearest chair at the long wooden table that takes up the center of the kitchen. Her eyes remain fixated on the Hogwarts headmistress as she stands before the old fashioned stove, waving her wand as the kettle springs to life, and two cups and a saucer float down from a nearby cabinet.

“Did anyone tell you that this house belonged to my father?”

The change of subject seems abrupt. Rey wants to protest, wants to point out that this really isn’t the time to be discussing Grimmauld Place’s history, but she bites her tongue. Not trusting herself to speak, Rey merely shakes her head.

“He bought it after moving to London from the States. He had attended Illvermorney, you see, but had been recruited by the Ministry for a job. He didn’t have a lot of money. He was an orphan, much like yourself. His mother died during his second year of schooling. But he wanted a home, a place to call his own.”

The tea kettle whistles, and with another flick of her wand, it moves through the air, tilting and pouring the steaming hot water into each of the cups. 

“He met my mother soon after his work at the Ministry began. She had been working her way up through the Department of Law Enforcement, eventually ended up on the Wizengamot council. My father was smitten with her right off the back. She took a little more time to come around to the idea, especially since he was a junior Auror, and the idea of them dating in the workplace was frowned upon.”

The cups, now with tea bags, moved as if they were carried by invisible hands. One settled with a light thud onto the table in front of Rey, while the other was placed before an empty chair. A chair that Leia sat down on just a moment later.

“Either way, she helped my father fix up this house. They worked together on their days off, tackling room after room. As their relationship grew, they began to expand it, already dreaming of a future here. After all, it made for an easy commute to the Ministry as well as it’s just blocks from King’s Cross.”

Curling her fingers around the warm teacup, Rey shifted in her seat. Her patience was beginning to wear thin, her head was continuing to pound. She didn’t see the point of this story, didn’t understand what any of this had to do with the fugitive that was currently upstairs.

“My parents married, and shortly after my mother became pregnant with myself, and of course Luke. She was working on the Wizengamot council at that point, while my father was a young, but respectable auror. He was a talented wizard, and that talent was admired by many. Some thought he was too brash, that he was too emotional to be a good auror. Others told him otherwise. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, especially. He took my father under his wing. Helped to train him, to guide him. Soon, my father became his right-hand man.”

Leia pauses, lifting her teacup to her lips and takes a long sip. “Do you know who the Head was, at that time?”

“No.” Rey shakes her head again.

“Sheev Palpatine. Many more known him as Empire Palpatine, or at least that was what his followers called him.”

Rey’s fingers went cold against the warm mug. “But your father-”

Leia’s eyes meet Rey’s, holding her gaze, her typically warm brown eyes, so reminiscent of chocolate have grown a touch darker, a touch harder. “My father was Darth Vader.”

Rey begins to shake her head again. The teacup clangs against the saucer as she sets it down. Her mind is spinning, trying to connect all the dots, trying to figure everything out. No, that couldn’t be. Because if Leia’s father was Darth Vader, then so was Luke’s. All these years, when Rey went to him, begging to not have to go back home to the muggle world during summer holidays, or lamenting about not ever being able to catch up with her classmates who had grown up in the wizarding world.

Every heart to heart they had shared. Every time Luke had tried to provide her with guidance, and tried to be a parent to her when she so desperately needed one, and yet he had never mentioned his own background? His own family history? He never shared any of it with her, never had hinted to any of it.

“I don’t understand.” Rey begins to say, her eyes lifting to meet Leia’s. “I don’t get why you’re telling me this and now. I don’t get why he didn’t- I don’t understand what this has to do with Solo-”

Reaching forward, Leia places her hand over Rey’s. For a moment the touch is welcoming, it soothes the shaking nerves Rey feels in her fingertips. She’s beginning to calm down, the spiral of her thoughts is beginning to slow.

“I am telling you this because Kylo Ren is my son.”

***

Her brain has begun to shut down. It’s on information overload. Too much has been revealed and now, even hours later, she can’t remember it all. No, it’s still trickling through, like a crack in a glass, allowing a small, slow yet steady stream of droplets to slip out.

_ My son. Double Agent. Saved your life. _

Leia had left over an hour ago. Or maybe it was minutes. Rey can’t trust herself with something as trivial as time. Not when she’s still trying to piece this all together. All she knows is that Leia had left in a hurry, mentioning something about needing to talk to Luke, to get back to Hogwarts.

“I need to go too-” Rey is already moving to stand up, the feet of the kitchen chair dragging across the floor. “I have to check in with my team. They’re going to be wondering where I went-”

“No.” 

Rey’s eyes snap to Leia’s. Her brow furrows, her lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you mean, no? They’re going to be looking for me. They could have search parties out right now.”

“Which is why you need to stay put,” Leia explains as she grabs her cloak, swinging the dark, velvet fabric over her shoulders. “This situation is complicated. There’s more to it than just the Ministry, just your team.”

She’s crossing the kitchen now, coming to stand in front of Rey, her hands coming to clasp the younger woman’s. “What I need you to do is just stay here, okay? I don’t know for how long. I need to talk with Luke and other members of the Resistance. We need to figure out what’s going on with Ben. So you two need to stay here. No leaving for any reason. Not even for just a moment. I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

And then she was gone, walking out of the kitchen, down the corridor until Rey had heard the sound of the front door unlocking, before softly shutting behind her.

Leaving Rey behind. To wait for a signal that, despite the fact it had been at the most a couple of hours, felt as if it would never come.

Then again, Rey was stuck in an enchanted building with a wanted criminal. A murder subject. A boy who she had spent so many years daydreaming about, wondering when he would look her way, let alone talk to her.

Her eyes dart up towards the ceiling, to the floor where he’s still on, hiding and waiting. 

She shakes her head, moves to sit on the couch before bouncing back to her feet so that she can pace back and forth along the sitting room’s floor. 

Staying down here is the smart choice. That’s what she should do. She should just do as Leia asked, stay put. Rey should keep her distance. 

Wand at the ready, she marches across the room, through the foyer, and up the stairs. The house is large, much bigger than it appears on the outside, but it doesn’t take Rey long to find him. She pushes one of the door’s open at random, and there he is, in one of the bedrooms, sitting at the foot of the bed as if he’s a child who had been sent to his room to serve his penance.

In a way, Rey realized that wasn’t too far from the truth.

For a moment they just stare at one another, he still seated on the bed while she stands in the doorway, her wand still held out before her.

“Are you going to do something with that?” He asks sarcastically, his eyes darting between her wand and her face.

“I don’t need my wand to keep you in line.” She bites back.

He has the audacity to roll his eyes, his fingers coming up to push his dark hair away from his forehead. “Oh yes, because hitting has solved so many-”

“It shut you up.” Rey keeps a hold of her wand, but she folds her arms across her chest, her chin slightly jutted out in defiance. Her eyes flicker to his cheek, and she’s both proud and ashamed to see a faint red imprint of her hand.

Except she shouldn’t feel pity for him. Not when he was a member of the First Order. 

Suspected murderer, his wanted poster had read.

And yet, she found the anger that had been so untamed and alive in the pit of her belly when she had first seen him standing in the kitchen, has softened. No longer was her first instinct to reprimand him, to turn him over to the law.

No, now she just had questions. Some, that only he could answer.

“Leia told me everything.” Rey blurts out the words and immediately regrets showing him her hand so soon. Bluffing was always the thing she struggled with. She wasn’t good at playing things cool, at holding back with revealing just what she wanted. “About you. Your grandfather.” 

Now that she knows the true origins of the house, she can’t help but look at it in a different light. It had always been a dusty old house, one that had once upon a time been well maintained, but one that had clearly fallen wayside and been forgotten.

But this was the house Darth Vader had bought. One purchased back when he had still been Anakin Skywalker, a young auror just like herself.

Rey wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t see the similarities between herself and Skywalkers. Both orphans. Both just trying to fit in, to try and find their place in this newfound world. 

But Rey couldn’t imagine turning her back on everything, everyone she held dear. She couldn’t imagine betraying her loved ones, her family. To turn on the wizarding world that had been her first true home…

“So have you come to gawk? To gloat? To wonder why I would follow my dear grandfather’s footsteps?” He interrupts her train of thought and places his hands beside him on the bed, palms down. Then he’s pushing himself up, walking casually across the bedroom.

“No.” She shakes her head, her eyes watching his every move. Despite the gauntness of his face, she can’t help but notice the broad width of his shoulders, the way the material of his dark shirt grows taut as he reaches down to pick up a discarded quaffle from the floor.

“So are you here on Auror duty then? Need to take me in for questioning? Get my side of the story so you and your buddies down at the Ministry can determine my fate.”

Her frown deepens. “If you’re going to be an ass about this-” She turns to go, allowing her voice to trail off.

“Wait-” She hates that she stops, that she follows his command.

Rey says nothing, but she inclines her head to look towards him. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

“What?”

His eyes dart around and his weight shifts from foot to foot. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “You didn’t turn me in.” He repeats, not quite meeting her eye. “Leia left two hours ago and you’ve just been sitting down there. You could have left. Could have floo’d to the ministry, or sent word to someone.”

“I trust Leia.” Rey interrupts. She’s facing him again but has yet to cross the threshold to properly enter the room. “She asked for my silence so I’m giving it to her. For now.”

She’s not sure what prompts her to quickly then add. “I’m not doing this for you.”

She hates the way his eyebrows shoot up before knotting together, furrowed and confused. “Why would you-”

“Do you want me to turn you in?” She’s lashing out now, trying to cover her tracks, trying to bury her embarrassment and the blush on her cheeks with anger.

“No.”

“Good.” Rey’s grasping at straws now. “So we’re on the same page. I suggest you keep your bloody mouth shut and then maybe we’ll stay on that page.”

Silence fills the room. It’s thick and awkward. Rey doesn’t know what to do next, so she does the first instinct that comes to mind. She turns to go.

“I remember you, you know.”

Once again, he says just the right thing to stop her in her tracks. Except, this time she doesn’t turn around. She keeps her back to him, knowing she can’t trust herself to show her face.

Her heart has begun to race, beating so fast, that she’s almost certain that he can hear. She’s an auror. A trained professional to handle dark wizards, yet five little words and she’s thirteen again, waiting in the Great Hall for him to walk by, hoping today will be the day he notices her, that somehow they share a conversation, that their paths cross and become intertwined.

“From Hogwarts. I remember you. Niima, right? Slytherin house? I think you were a couple of years below me.”

She hates the way her heart begins to crack with each word. She hates the way she can feel the hurt washing over her, subtly at first, like waves just beginning to come in. Because he’s talking to her like he doesn’t remember.

Because he probably doesn’t. Because she was insignificant to him. Nothing but a third-year who had gotten in over her head. 

And what’s worse, is she hates the way it makes her feel now. How she feels small and weak, as if she was nothing then and she is nothing now.

She doesn’t say anything more to him. No, instead she just continues to walk away. She gets down the stairs, her footsteps steady and calm. In fact, Rey makes it all the way to the downstairs bathroom, the one in the back of the house off of the kitchen. She shuts and locks the door, flicks on the faucet.

Slowly she slides to the floor and as the shock finally wears off, as the reality of everything that happened in the past day sinks in, Rey finally allows herself to cry.

***

The sound of yelling wakes her up. She had curled back up on the living room sofa, had been intent on just waiting for Leia to return, but everything had felt so overwhelming, like she was treading water as fast she could while barely staying afloat.

So once her eyelids had grown heavy, Rey hadn’t fought off sleep too hard or for too long.

It’s a man’s voice, loud and agitated, followed by a woman, who was speaking in a low, urgent tone.

Her first thought is that Leia has returned, that she’s fighting with Ben or Ren, or whoever he is.

But no. The man’s voice is familiar but not his.

Then it hits her.  _ Luke _ .

She’s on her feet in a flash, scrambling to throw the pocket doors open, which reveal the dining room. 

Sure enough, there stands Professor Skywalker, finger pointed at his sister, who is rolling her eyes, her arms folded over her chest.

This is an argument that Rey doesn’t worry about intruding upon.

“What’s going on?” She interrupts, forcing herself into the conversation. Because she’s tired of secrets, tired of being kept out of the loop. For once, Rey wants to be part of the discussion rather than just finding out everything after the fact. 

The two look at each other, then over at Rey then back at each other. There’s a hesitation, a brief pause and then Leia is the first to speak. “Luke thinks we should turn Ben in.”

“I don’t trust him-” Luke reiterates. “It doesn’t make sense what would change his mind now, after being under Snoke’s wing for so long.”

“Five years doesn’t make up for a lifetime-”

“He was grooming Ben before he even left Hogwarts, Leia. Who knows just how long Snoke was in his mind.”

Leia stops talking, her lips pressed into a thin, firm line. She shakes her head, seems to think things over for a moment before she looks at her brother once more. “All I’m asking is that we don’t rush into anything. That we don’t jump to any conclusions. We can keep him here. He can lay low. We can keep an eye on him-”

“Whose we?” Luke interjects. “We-” He motions between himself and his sister. “Have to get back to Hogwarts. We have lessons to conduct. Students to teach.”

“Dameron maybe-”

“The ministry would suspect something. He’s one of their best aurors. He can’t take a sabbatical in the middle of a war to babysit Ben.”

“Then what about-”

“I’ll do it.” Rey blurts out the offer, her mouth working faster than her brain. She doesn’t even know why she volunteers. Maybe to stop the arguing. Maybe to be of use, to actually help out. Or maybe it’s for something else entirely, her own selfish reasons of wanting to get down to the bottom of this whole mess.

Luke and Leia both just stare at her, eyebrows raised in twin expressions of shock.

“I’ll do it,” Rey repeats, her voice sounding more certain and firm this time. “I’m missing in action, correct? Or at least that’s what the Ministry is going to assume. I can’t just waltz back to work without a cover story. Who knows if anyone even saw me being taken. So this kills two birds with one stone. I can stay here to watch over him, try and figure out what’s going on-”

“Don’t I get a say?”

The sound of his voice causes the hairs to rise on the back of Rey’s neck. A shiver travels down her spine, almost like a reflex, like when she would catch his eye in the corridor at school, or they would brush shoulders, passing one another in the Great Hall. But she refuses to analyze her body’s response, refuses to unpack that particular load of baggage right now.

“No.” Rey and Luke answer in unison, a biting venom to their words.

He’s walking further into the dining room, his expression distant and bored, though there’s an edge to it too, almost like a predator toying with their prey. He says nothing though, merely stands there, as if waiting for the discussion to carry along. As if he’s nothing more than a fly on a wall.

“Rey will stay,” Leia says, confirming her words with a small nod. “For now, at least until we figure something else out. We’ll send back up, too. Other Resistance members will take on shifts here when they can, bring supplies and update you on what’s going on. Anything urgent will come from myself or Luke.”

Her eyes flicker from her brother to her son, both who seem to be staring each other down, much like two alpha lions during a standoff. Rey can feel the tension rolling off their bodies. Her eyes scan over Ben and the way his shoulders seem tight and tense, to the way he keeps working his jaw. Almost as if he could feel her gaze, his eyes dart to hers, and she instinctively looks away.

Leia mutters something underneath her breath, but Rey can’t catch a single word of it, only that her tone is sarcastic and annoyed. She motions to her brother, who is donning his cloak as the pair make their way to the front door.

“Behave.” The headmistress states, and for a moment Rey can’t tell if who she’s speaking to; Rey or Kylo. But then she watches as the woman fixates her son with a look. “Don’t make me regret this, Ben.” 

The front door opens, and both Leia and Luke disappear out onto the street, the sound of the locking mechanisms slipping back into place, covering up the noise of their retreating footsteps.

For a moment, all Rey can do is stand there, staring at the shut front door, wondering what she’s even gotten herself into.

She turns to look at Ben, to say something (what, she doesn’t know, but something) and instead is met with the sight of his retreating form. He takes the stairs two at a time, and within a blink or two of the eye, he too is gone.

Once again, Rey is left alone.

***

The days pass by without any excitement or fuss. In fact, Rey hardly crosses paths with  _ him _ at all. She checks on him, trying to be stealthy and not seen. After all, the last thing she needs is for Luke or Leia to reappear, ask where Kylo Ren is, and have Rey answer with a shrug. 

No, the very least she can do is make certain that he’s still in the house.

Not that either of them could even leave.

Rey tried. Not to  _ actually _ leave but to check. She went to the front door, had tried to open it by just turning the knob to no avail. So then she had tried her wand, tapping, poking and prodding the door. Still, nothing.

Not that Rey expected to somehow undo whatever enchantments that Leia had bestowed upon the place. They were there for her protection. After all, where would she go? What would she do? She couldn’t go back to work. She couldn’t pop over to her flat to get some fresh clothes and have a chat with Rose or Paige as if she hadn’t been missing the last few days.

She could only hope that her roommates weren’t too worried. That was the only thing that had caused her to hesitate about this whole situation, that she was putting her friends through unnecessary concern.

Maybe she could somehow get a message to them. Maybe if she explained things to Leia, or even Luke, they would let her owl them so that they could know she was okay…

But she doesn’t see Leia and Luke for nearly a week.

Other members of the Resistance pop in and out. They’re polite and courteous. They ask if Rey needs anything, they check on the supplies, then Kylo, and then they leave, not wasting any time. 

Slowly she begins to feel lonely. Which is stupid. Because she’s been lonely before. She spent most of her childhood alone, being shuttled around to different foster homes and orphanages. Rey  _ knows _ lonely and this? This isn’t quite that.

When the second week starts, she decides they’re going to keep busy.

She wakes with the sun one morning. She’s been sleeping on one of the oversized sofas down in the sitting room. It’s comfortable and large. Rey’s definitely slept in worse places before. There are bedrooms upstairs. An entire floor filled with unopened doors, most of which probably houses a bed of some sort.

But  _ he’s _ upstairs. He’s been keeping to his floor of Grimmauld Place, while Rey’s been keeping to hers.

Well not anymore.

“Get up.” Rey pushes open the door of the room he’d been staying in, the same one where he had gone to hide or pout or  _ whatever  _ he had been trying to do after Leia had told him to leave.

He sits up abruptly, the duvet falling from his body, exposing his bare chest. For a moment, Rey is so taken aback by the appearance of so much, well skin, that she can only gawk and marvel at it. Her eyes flitter over the various freckles and moles that dot his chest and abdomen, over the hard planes and ropes of corded muscle.

She must have been staring for too long because he clears his throat.

Her eyes flash to his, and Rey at least feels a little bit relieved to see a flush breaking out over his cheeks, pale and pink but still there.

At least she’s not the only one embarrassed. 

“Get up,” Rey repeats, but he doesn’t move. His eyes narrow and he remains stationary in bed. Suddenly she wonders if he’s wearing anything at all underneath the sheets that drape over his lower half. 

The thought makes her dizzy. Quickly, she shoves it aside.

“Why?” He’s still scowling at her, and Rey doesn’t hold back the sarcastic roll of her eyes.

“We’re stuck in this place, we might as well do something. Be productive.” Her suggestion is met with dead silence. Exhaling a huff of hot, annoyed air, Rey turns on her heel. “I’m the one babysitting you, remember? So get dressed and meet me down in the drawing-room. You have five minutes.”

She pauses, already halfway out the door before something makes her stop and turn. “And Solo? Ren? Whoever you are? Don’t be late. Clearly I have no problem bursting in through closed doors.”

A small sense of victory washes over her, and Rey doesn’t bother to hide the small smirk that begins to spread across her lips.

***

The house, despite its good structure and bones, had clearly been sitting vacant for far too long. Cobwebs filled corners and a layer of dust covered nearly every surface. The only rooms that were in fairly good condition were the ones used by the Resistance the most; the dining room, the kitchen, and the sitting room where Rey had been sleeping.

The rest of it needed a good scourgifying.

So that’s exactly what Rey and Kylo began to do.

She’s surprised when he appears dressed and on time in the drawing room. But she doesn’t allow her thoughts to wander. Instead, she pushes up her sleeves, picks up her wand and starts barking orders.

Except he just stands there. For a moment he looks around the room, almost as if he was lost. He opens his mouth before promptly shutting it again.

“What?” Rey snaps, a bit harder than she intended.

He glances towards her, then back towards the fireplace that she’s just instructed him to clean out. “I don’t have my wand.”

She blinks once, then twice. “Oh.” Of course, he wouldn’t have his wand. Leia wasn’t foolish. It was already risky to just have him in the Resistance headquarters, but armed too?

“Okay.” She clears her throat, looking around the room. With a flick of her wand, a rag appears on the nearby end table. Another swish and there’s a bottle of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. 

“So clean the muggle way, then. Start wiping down the surfaces. I’ll take care of the bigger tasks.”

He nods and doesn’t argue. They both set out upon their tasks. Rey tackles the chimney while Ben picks up the rag and cleaner. They work in silent tandem, and before long, the room is looking much better than when they had stepped foot into it that morning.

This becomes their routine. Rey knocks on his door, tells him what room to be in, and then they set out to work. They break for lunch and tea, but other than that work the whole way through. If they finish early, then they pick another room and start by that. By the fourth day, they’ve tackled the drawing room, three bedrooms, and a small study.

Fortunately for them, there’s plenty of house to keep them busy.

For the most part, they don’t speak as they work, other than when necessary. She takes care of the trickier stuff, the kind of work that would mean hours of hard labor for a muggle, while he deals with the simpler tasks, like cleaning out drawers or wiping down coffee tables.

By the end of their second week of captivity, Rey decides they’re going to go for a change of pace. “Attic.” She announces after a swift knock on his bedroom door, before she turns, already moving her wand as the attic stairs pop down from the ceiling.

There’s a clamber of noise behind her. The bedroom door is thrown open, and he scrambles out of it, tugging a white tee shirt on over his head. Her eyes flicker to the stripe of exposed stomach before it’s hidden by a layer of thin cotton.

“What?” He stares back at her, shrugging his shoulders as he brushes past her to climb the attic steps. Rey hangs back, and for a moment she allows the indulgence of watching his body move up each rung of the ladder, her eyes skimming over the way his dark jeans cling to his backside and thighs.

“You coming?” He calls down to her, and now Rey is the one scrambling to move, to follow him up into the attic.

“Lumos.” She murmurs, once standing on the dusty attic floorboards. It’s a large room, one that probably spans the entire third floor of Grimmauld place. It’s also the grimiest of all the rooms, full of old furniture, stacks upon stacks of boxes, and more dust than what was found in the entirety of the rest of the house.

Just like the other rooms, they set to work. Rey conjures some candles, and they begin to clear cobwebs from the crevices and sweep dust from the floorboards, all by the soft warm glow of the candlelight.

They’ve been working for a few hours, not really breaking longer than to visit the restroom or perhaps grab a glass of water. Rey moves to stand from where she had been crouching, trying to vanish some broken glass when her foot catches against a tower of boxes. The top one goes spiraling, and she darts forward, jutting out her wand.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ .”

A gust of invisible air encases the box, cushioning its fall, as Rey guides it gently down to the floorboards. Lowering her wand, she moves to peel back the cardboard flaps, curious to see its contents.

A stack of photographs, some moving while others remain still. The sight of two young children, one with dark brown hair, the other a sandy blonde catches her eye. A fond smile washes over her face as she reaches down to begin rifling through the photos.

She sees numerous ones of the twins at various stages of life; newborn, toddling about on uncertain legs, wearing brand new robes and going off to Hogwarts for the very first time. 

Then there’s a photograph of a woman, with warm, soft brown eyes. Leia’s eyes. Ben’s eyes. Rey finds herself drawn towards the picture, and she runs her fingertips over the print, tracing over the delicate bridge her nose to the way her dark hair had been pulled back in an intricate-looking twist.

The photograph moves and smiles, as the woman in it breaks out into a silent laugh. Her eyes seem to sparkle, despite the flat sepia tones of the picture. Rey finds herself being drawn in, wanting to know about her, who she is, what her name is.

“Padme.”

The sound of his voice jolts her from her thoughts. She looks up to find Kylo standing beside her, peering over her shoulder to look at the picture as well. 

“Her name is Padme.” He clarifies, jerking his chin in the direction of the photo still in Rey’s hands. “She was Leia’s mother.”

“Your grandmother.” Rey finishes for him. She lays the picture back down, putting it back with the others. “I didn’t mean to snoop. The box fell and-”

“I know.” His hands slide into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders raised like the beginning of a shrug. “It’s fine. It’s not like I have a claim to anything here.”

“They’re your family.” She argues, but there is no bite to her tone.

Their eyes meet, and he smirks, almost as if to silently communicate a sarcastic ‘yeah, right’.

Rey gives a small shake of her head. She stands, brushing the dust from her hands against the sides of her legs. Leaning forward, she picks up the box and tucks it into a safe corner of the attic, one that had already been cleared and clean.

“They’re your family,” Rey states again, this time her voice is more firm. “You wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.”

A silence bubbles between them, thick but not with tension. No, instead the air is filled with something else, something that Rey can’t pinpoint or name. Whatever it is, it feels like a turning in the tide, a change that’s hovering on the horizon.

Her back is to him, but she can feel his gaze boring into the back of her head, making her feel flushed and warm. 

“We should open a window,” She mutters, more for herself than anyone else. Uncertain what lengths Leia’s enchantments extend to, she moves towards the circular stained glass window tucked into the eaves, where the two slopes of the roof meet.

With shaking fingers she undoes the lock before pressing her palm flat against the cool glass. Giving a soft push, the window creaks and groans, but it opens. The crisp, outside air blows into the attic and her eyes slip shut as she savors the sensation. 

“I remember you.” Once more he speaks, interrupting her introspective moments. She doesn’t trust herself to look at him, to turn and face him, so Rey keeps her back towards him, her gaze fixated on the partially open window.

“Back at Hogwarts. You were what? Second year? No, it was your third. I was taking a walk out on the grounds. Slytherin’s team was finishing up their practice but you stayed behind to run more drills. You told Phasma you were all wired and needed to burn some energy before you called it a night.”

She can feel her heartbeat beginning to race. Her hand drops from the window, her arms now hanging limply by her sides. All she wants is to have something to do; something to fiddle with, to tinker or fix. But that would mean turning around. That would mean facing him, so she remains in front of the window, completely still, the deep baritone of his voice washing over her entire body.

“I almost laughed when I saw you had bewitched those damn walnuts. They kept flying at you, and you kept diving for them. I don’t even know if you realize how long you were up there, flying around on that old Cleansweep. Everyone always bitched about those brooms in flying class, always said that they were shit to fly on, yet there you were, riding it like it was the latest Nimbus model.”

He pauses, clears his throat and Rey can hear the sound of his soft footfalls, hesitant and wary as he steps towards her.

The atmosphere continues to build in the room. The air is so thick that even the cool breeze filtering in through the window doesn’t help. She knows she can’t keep her back to him much longer. The urge to turn around, to face him, to  _ see _ him is becoming overwhelmingly strong.

“Then everything went haywire. It started to rain. I wanted to jump in, wanted to help-” The sound of his approaching footsteps stop. “But I wanted to see what you would do more.”

“I didn’t do much,” She mutters, a wryly smirk teasing at her lips. “I got hit in the face with bloody walnuts.”

He snorts, breathing out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah you did. But you didn’t really give up. You were soaking wet, bruised and zig-zagging around on your broom and you were still trying. You even lost your wand at some point, didn’t you? Dropped it?”

“Yeah-” She remembers feeling it slip from her grasp, remembers trying to dive for it, trying to reach blindly in hopes to feel the wooden ash against her fingertips. But instead, she had felt nothing but the empty, wet air.

At the moment it had been overwhelming, had felt at the end of the world. Then again, most things did when you were thirteen years old. 

He’s standing right behind her, and the urgency to turn around, to face him is too much to delay anymore. She turns and there he is, right where she had predicted. His head is slightly bent, shoulders hunched and he’s looking at her, his eyes burning down into hers.

“I had tried  _ Immobulus _ . I kept trying and it didn’t work. Then suddenly I heard this voice ring out through the rain and the wind-”

“The moment everything froze you looked around like you were stuck in this magical snow globe. “ Rey is surprised at how soft his expression goes, how the light seems to fill his eyes, that same spark that his mother has, that was captured in his grandmother’s portrait.

“I never saw someone look so amazed, so entirely enthralled all while looking like a drowned kneazle.”

The laughter bubbles from her lips, and it surprises not just Rey, but him as well. His eyes dart to her lips and then back to her face, and she can see the tension beginning to relieve from his shoulders.

For some reason it makes her feel at ease, makes her feel more relaxed. Like she’s talking to Rose or even Poe. Like she’s catching up with an old friend.

But he wasn’t a friend.

Reality begins to trickle in, but Rey does her best to hold onto this fantasy for just a moment longer.

“Why were you so abrupt then? You looked annoyed with me. I thought I was about to cost Slytherin points or get a detention.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t-“ He starts and stops multiple times before giving up on words altogether. A frustrated groan slips from his lips, and Rey is surprised at how the noise causes her face to warm.

He’s palming the back of his neck now, eyes darting nervously.

She can feel this fantasy fading away more and more, her grip on it beginning to slip, and oh how Rey wants to hold onto it, wants to milk it for every last drop.

“You weren’t what?” She presses, stepping towards him. He swallows, and she watches his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

Then the dam breaks and reality comes crashing down, like an icy cold tidal wave in the form of Poe Dameron.

“Rey?  _ Rey _ ?” Poe calls her name, his voice slightly distant and muffled by the floors and walls between them.

Rey continues to look at Kylo, almost as if she is silently pleading for him to carry on, to not waste their last moments…

But the moment must have already passed. He’s put distance between them, has turned and begun to rifle through boxes, trying to appear busy.

“I’m up here!” Rey calls back down to Poe, already on the move towards the ladder. “In the attic! I’ll be right down.”

She begins hovers for a moment above the ladder, and glances back towards Kylo. Words are on the tip of her tongue, but her mouth remains mute. After all, what could she say? What is there even to say? That she had a nice chat? That they should do this again sometime?

The world is at war. He’s a wanted fugitive. Just being here with him, not turning him over to the authorities, would cost her her job, could even cause her to end up in Azkaban.

Instead, she begins her descent, not saying anything at all. This is the reality of the situation. They’re not kids at Hogwarts anymore, able to bury their noses in textbooks, to hide out in their common rooms or distract themselves with Quidditch or gangly boys with features they still haven’t grown into yet.

No,  _ this  _ is the actuality of it all.

She shuts the hatch to the attic and tries not to give their conversation anymore thought.


	3. chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo spend more time together and grow closer, while Leia and the other members of the Resistance try to figure out what they're going to do with the infamous Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the plot thickens! thanks again to everyone that has left a comment or a kudo. i'm glad everyone is enjoying this story as much as i'm enjoying writing it.
> 
> katara, i hope you continue to love the fic as things progress!

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)  


Leia calls a meeting to order. It’s been three weeks that Rey’s been holed up in Grimmauld Place. They’ve run out of rooms to clean and instead have taken to spending most of their time in the attic, going through old photo albums and cleaning out the broken artifacts from the ones that still work.

They talk now, her and Kylo. It’s usually light, about whatever knick-knacks they discover. He tells a lot of stories, mostly about his grandmother, though the occasional tale about his mother and Luke slip in here and there.

He never talks about  _ his _ childhood, though. He never discusses his father. Rey doesn’t press. She doesn’t ask any questions that would dive too deep. They keep things light and topical, and anytime the conversation steers to close to anything else, they veer it back into shallow waters.

It’s just nice to talk, makes the time pass sooner.

Now though, with the upcoming meeting, Rey is afraid that things will begin to change.

It’s not like she can stay hidden in Grimmauld Place forever. Rose and Paige must be worried sick. Maybe word’s even traveled to her school friends. There could be posters with her face on it, the word missing printed boldly beneath her moving picture.

Rey would be lying if part of her didn’t revel in the thought that someone might be looking for her. That she was being missed. That she was being cared about.

But the moment the thought entered her mind, it was quickly washed away by a lurch of her stomach and a wave of guilt.

Right before the meeting starts, Rey catches Kylo and Leia in the corridor, their heads bent and their words hushed, despite being exchanged with rapid-fire succession. They seem to be arguing about something or another, and as Kylo turns, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists by his sides, Rey can only assume it was Leia who came out victorious.

The Hogwarts headmistress catches her eye. “He wanted to be present at the meeting. I didn’t think that would be a wise decision.”

All Rey can do is silently nod.

One by one, Resistance members begin to arrive. They gather in the dining room, everyone taking a seat, though some linger leaning against the walls or in the doorways, Dameron among them. Platters of food appear on the table, same with goblets of pumpkin juice and butterbeer. Everyone is chatting and drinking, catching up and for a moment Rey feels overwhelmed. It’s only then, that she realizes, this is the first time she’s been around so many people in nearly a month.

“How are you doing?” Poe asks her as he leans across the table, reaching to take one of the small, handheld steak and kidney pies. He takes a bite, looking expectantly at Rey, clearly waiting for her answer.

“Fine.” She shrugs her shoulders, her gaze dropping down to her own plate, which has been piled high with a little bit of everything. She nudges her fork against the shepherd's pie, but doesn’t take a bite. “Lots of cleaning to do around here, so that’s kept me busy.”

He nods his head, his mouth full of food as he chews. Only once he’s swallowed does Poe open his mouth, as if he’s going to say something more, but he’s interrupted by Leia who stands at the head of the table.

“Feel free to continue to eat. I just thought we should get the meeting started. I know some of you still have shifts at the Ministry to get to.”

There’s a quiet murmur amongst the table, a couple of jokes exchanged about those who got the less desirable later shifts. The chatter dies down because Leia is speaking again. She begins to go through the usual meeting discussions, asking for updates about this lead or that. Poe tells her about things going on in the Auror office, how he thinks there might be a couple more agents that would want to join their cause.

Rey kicks herself for wasting the time with small chat. She could have asked him what was going on with her so-called ‘disappearance’, if anyone had come by looking for her, or had asked about her.

_ It doesn’t matter,  _ a small voice says from inside of her head.  _ That’s not important right now.  _

Once more, she pushes the mashed potatoes around on her plate. It’s cold now, not that Rey even feels all that hungry.

The meeting continues on. Some people offer up suggestions about what their next course of action should be. Others debated their own thoughts, some more conservative than others. Back and forth it went, and Rey began to zone out, her thoughts straying to Kylo. She wondered if he was eavesdropping at the top of the stairs, like a child whose parents were having a dinner party.

She wondered if he had put distance between himself and the others, if he was hidden away, out of sight and out of mind.

“We have one more item to discuss.” Leia announces, and once more a hush falls over the room. She’s standing still at the head of the table, her hands leaning forward, gripping the edge. “As some of you might know, a member of the First Order has turned themselves over to us, offering their services as a double agent.”

Everybody in the dining room goes entirely still.

“This is not something I am going to take lightly. After all, as easily as this could turn things in our favor, it could turn things against us.” She continues on, her eyes scanning over the room, pausing as if she is meeting the gaze of every single person gathered around her. “And because this is a democracy, not a dictatorship, I will not move forward without consulting all of you and putting the motion to vote.”

There’s a rattling noise. Rey glances over her shoulder to see Luke slipping into the back of the room, the cloak of his hood casting a shadow over the upper half of his face.  _ You’re late _ , she mouths to her old professor, but he ignores her, waving off her chiding.

“Who is it?” Someone asks, a girl with her dark hair pulled back into a simple, single plait. 

“Yeah, is it someone well known?” Another voice chimes in.

Leia seems to pause, and Rey can’t tell if it’s due to hesitation or to let the chatter once again die.

“Kylo Ren.” She finally states, and the room begins to buzz.

“Snoke’s right-hand man?”

“ _ The _ Kylo Ren?!”

“This has to be a trap-”

“I’ve heard stories of the destruction he’s caused. How many lives he’s taken!?”

It’s becoming too much for Rey. She does her best to ignore it, but the voices only continue to grow around her. She bites the inside of her cheek, tries to focus on something, anything else.

Leia slams her hands down onto the dining room table. The effect is immediate. 

“This isn’t a dictatorship, but we also cannot all be talking at once.” She barks, and once more Rey feels as if she’s sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, getting lectured on the dangers of the Forbidden Forest and how important it is to keep to curfew.

She must not be the only one feeling that way, because the room, filled with many who still think of their leader as Professor Organa, fall quiet.

“Now, Kylo Ren has given up his wand. He’s been in our custody for nearly a month, and so far has followed the rules and boundaries we’ve set forward.” She pauses briefly. “But that is a lot different than trusting someone to be a double agent.”

“Where does Snoke think he’s now? Won’t he be suspicious if his right-hand man is gone for a whole bloody month?” Someone asks.

“Ren is on an assignment from Snoke. To infiltrate us, something he told me right from the start.”

The backlash is immediate. An uproar breaks out. Some stand, while others begin to shout their protests. Rey looks from Leia, whose trying to soothe the crowd with little to no avail, to Luke who merely raises his hands and shrugs his shoulders, as if he’s washing himself of the situation. As if to say ‘can you blame them? What am I supposed to do?’

Rey stands. This all feels too much, too overwhelming. She pushes through the crowd, making a beeline to Leia.

“You need to tell them,” She hisses, but the older woman merely shakes her head.

“Leia-“ Rey presses on. “You need to tell them who he is. They need to know.”

Kylo Ren was a caricature, a story that bred nightmares and instilled fear.

But Ben Solo was someone’s son. Someone’s nephew. Hell, half of the Resistance had most likely crossed paths with him, had gone to Hogwarts with him.

Ben Solo wasn’t a stranger. Not like Kylo Ren was.

But Leia wasn’t paying attention to Rey anymore. She was still grappling with control, trying to be a politician rather than a mother.

Suddenly Rey began to see cracks in the other woman’s foundation. She could see the fault lines, how the boy at Hogwarts had grown up to be someone who they all feared, who had turned into nothing more than one of Snoke’s monsters, parading around, their face hidden behind a mask.

Rey’s body is shaking as she makes a beeline for the door. But not before stopping by Luke, her eyes narrowed and her tongue sharp. “You could be helping this. Helping Leia, helping  _ him. _ This is your family.”

She doesn’t give her former professor a chance to retort.

The urge for fresh air is strong. Out the front door isn’t an option. Out to the back garden doesn’t seem far away enough from the insanity brewing in the dining room. No, she knows where to go. She takes the staircase, taking advantage of her long legs, taking two steps at a time. Her feet are thunderous against the hallway floor as she sprints down the long corridor, through one of the back bedrooms and out onto the small, adjacent balcony.

It wasn’t much, but it was the best she could do. She grips the iron railing, relishing in the sensation of the cold metal against her hot skin. 

“Idiots. Fucking idiots the lot of them-” Rey mutters.

“Are they finished deciding my fate?”

She jumps and swears, turning around in time to see him standing there in the shadows. His back was leaning against the dark, exterior brick, but he stepped forward, his face now illuminated by the moonlight.

“What are you doing out here?” Rey snaps, taking some of her aggression out on him. It’s not fair. It’s not right, but it is what it is. She’s still feeling too charged, too jumpy from what just happened.

“Same thing as you.” He answers with a shrug, not bothered at all by her tone. “I didn’t want to hear the discussion. I figured I would come out here and wait for the verdict.”

“Your mother won’t let anything bad happen to you.” The words fall from her lips, but as his eyes meet hers, they both know she’s stretching the truth.

“My mother will do what she thinks is right.” Kylo clarifies. “If the Resistance wants to drag me straight to Azkaban to rot away with the dementors, then that is what she’s going to do.”

“She loves you-” Rey presses before she stops herself. After all, what does she know about a parent’s love? Or even a parent’s bond with their child? Let alone about Leia’s relationship with her son. She has nothing but pieces and fragments that she’s been trying to hold together with inferences. She’s grasping at straws.

“She loves her job.” Kylo stands beside her, his hands gripping the railing. “She loves politics, loves making the world a better place. She loves me,” He agrees, as he looks out onto the city around them. “But she loves doing what’s right even more.”

A silence settles between them, but for once it doesn’t seem thick and heavy. Instead it feels light, with a steady undercurrent of cackling, like static electricity.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His shoulder brushed against hers, and Rey’s mind struggles to focus on anything but the sensation of his warm flesh touching her own.

“They didn’t decide.” She answers honestly, not knowing what else to say. It was too chaotic to try and predict which way the vote would go.

Kylo hums in response, still looking out across the city’s skyline. Rey takes advantage of the moment to study his profile; his aquiline nose and the texture of his soft, pink lips. His face no longer looks as gaunt as it had, when their paths had crossed in the woods. The bags under his eyes had begun to fade, the line of his cheekbones and jaw was no longer as severe or sharp.

He doesn’t look like the boy she remembers from Hogwarts, the one whose bronze and blue tie had always been in place, his robes billowing behind him as he storms across the grounds, books in one hand and an ever-present scowl across his features.

But he’s beginning to look familiar again.

He turns his head, catches her staring but this time Rey doesn’t look away. In fact, she rotates towards him, her upper body now facing his. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

_ Are you working with us or against us?  _ Is what she really wants to ask. Instead, she settles for, “Were you sent here by Snoke? To spy on us?”

“Yes.”

The bluntness of his answer is both a welcome and a slight slap in the face. Rey’s not sure what she expected. Maybe for him to defend himself, to explain that he had been sent here to spy but something had changed. That he was turning his back on Snoke and never looking back.

“Are you? Spying on us?” She shifts towards him, her eyes continuing to look at him with great scrutiny.

His eyes shift from the city skyline to meet and hold her gaze. “No.”

It’s not a dose of vertasarium. It’s not a potion forcing his tongue to speak nothing but honesty and the truth. But  _ something  _ had changed. What, she has no idea, but there was that feeling of a change in the winds, a shift in the tide.

“Okay.” She nods her head as she leans forward, her back bent and her arms resting against the iron railing. But she can feel his eyes still fixated upon her once again with that intense, burning gaze.

“Okay?” He presses, and Rey can only let out a breath, a sigh that she hadn’t realized she had been holding for so long. 

“Yeah. Okay.”

She sees him nod his head out of the corner of her eye. They settle into a comfortable silence as they both look out onto the cityscape, taking in all the sights and the lights from their hidden balcony up above.

***

The verdict comes three days later. 

The Resistance won’t vote until after they’ve had their chance to interrogate Kylo Ren. And to do so, they’re insisting on the use of veritaserum. 

Rey is with Kylo in the kitchen when Leia appears to tell them the news. She watches the way his shoulders begin to tense, how he works at his jaw, his fingers curling in towards his palms, which rest on the kitchen counter. His back is to his mother, but Rey is at his side, and she doesn’t bother to hide her staring this time, as she takes in the clear shift in his body language.

“It’ll be fine.” Rey reassures him after Leia has left. “You said so yourself. You’re not here to spy.”

But her words must fall upon deaf ears. Kylo remains on edge for days. He’s moody and snappish, and the bags have returned beneath his eyes.

“What is wrong with you?” Rey finally breaks down and asks him directly. They’re in the back garden, clearing out fallen, dead leaves and weeds from the flower beds. The sun is high in the sky up above, and after spending so much time cooped up indoors, it feels good to get out, to feel the sun’s rays warming her skin.

He ignores her. His back is to her, and he bends over, picking up a trash bag full of weeds.

A growl of frustration slips from her lips, and she’s not thinking anymore. No, she’s merely reacting. Forgetting her wand, she reaches down and picks up a glob of dirt and hurling it through the air, aiming at him.

The dirtball smacks him squarely in the back of his head.

“What the fuck?!” Kylo exclaims, his fingers instinctively going to rub where he had been hit. “What was that for?!”

“You’re being a prick!” Rey counters, her eyes flashing and her cheeks flushed with anger. “You’ve been scowling, pouting around for days ever since Leia was here. I don’t understand what your problem is!”

“My problem?!” He roars back, and Rey isn’t prepared for the intensity of his voice. “Perhaps my problem is I’ve been stuck here, unable to leave this fucking house for over a month. Maybe my problem is, my fate is left in the hands of a group of idiots who don’t know the first thing about what’s going on out there-”

“Then tell them!” Rey steps towards him, her voice pleading. “Help them understand. This is why the verteraserium isn’t a bad thing. Because you can tell them what’s going on, and they know that it’s the truth.”

Her words seem to only add fuel to the fire. “How would you like it?” He counters, and Rey frowns, giving a small shake of her head. “Like what?”

“To be fed a truth potion? To be entirely vulnerable and susceptible, with no filter, just being forced to spill your soul to anyone that asks?”

“It’s not forever-”

“How would you like it?” Kylo presses, and Rey falls silent. Because she wouldn’t like it. She would hate it, to have to say every last secret, to reveal everything she had ever tried to hide, to bury deep down beneath wall after wall of protection.

Her silence must be answer enough before there’s a superior look in his eyes. “I thought so.”

But Rey’s not going to let things end there. “Well, what do you expect?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Already she can see him beginning to close up, the progress that they had been making, each baby step they had been taking towards…Rey’s not sure what, but something other than mere coexistence is beginning to disappear. They’re spiraling now, a quaffle rolling down a hill, gaining momentum.

And Rey’s not sure that she could stop it at this point even if she tried.

“Your face is plastered all over wanted posters. There’s a reward, but wizards and witches are warned not to approach you. That you’re dangerous. That you’re wanted for murder.” The words fall from her tongue, fast and sharp. “What else are we supposed to do? What would you do, if the tables were turned? If I showed up in the middle of Snoke’s lair. Would I even be a chance to plead my case? Or would I have an Unforgivable Curse thrown at me before I could even get a word out?”

Now it is his silence that is an answer enough.

A dry, bitter laugh escapes her. Rey shakes her head as she looks to the side, unable to look at him anymore. “That’s what I thought.”

She turns to move, to walk away or leave or just put space between them, but once again Kylo has the ability to stop Rey in her tracks with nothing more than a handful of words.

“I thought you were different.”

Confusion shrouds her features, and against her better judgment, she pivots to face him. “What?!”

“You keep saying ‘we’, as if you’re one of them.” Kylo jerks his head towards the house. A few locks of dark hair fall down into his eyes, but he doesn’t move to push them back. Rey has to curl her fingers to fight the urge to sweep them away from his line of vision.

“That’s because I  _ am _ . I’m a member of the Resistance.”

“Are you?” That sneer is back, and Rey gets flashes to the steps at Hogwarts, the spiral staircase leading up to Leia’s office. He had been wearing a similar expression, shoving the blame for their altercation fully onto her.

“Because the way I see it, you are trapped in this house the same as me. You have no voice, no say. You’re stuck here, another pawn for their use.”

“No.” She shakes her head, the anger beginning to bubble in her chest. “Stop it.”

“You’re convenient, so they use you.”

“I  _ volunteered _ for this job. I offered because no one else wanted to watch your sorry ass-”

“You got stuck. You were in the right place at the right time and they had no other use for you. So you got locked away, just like me, until they decide your worth. Until they deem that you’re an important piece in their fucking game again.”

Something in her snaps like a fallen twig underfoot. In a flash of movement she’s storming towards him, her wand at the ready, the tip of it pointed beneath his chin.

A smirk slowly spreads across his lips, and Rey begins to see it; the cracks in his appearance. She can see Kylo Ren beginning to peek from behind the curtain.

“Do it.” He taunts her.

And for a moment, Rey considers it. How much she would love to freeze him, to render him immobile, unable to move, to even blink. She would relish in the fact that he would be stuck in this garden, completely at her mercy.

He could be afraid for once. He could feel what it was like to be powerless, to be out of control.

But that would make her no better than the man on the wanted poster.

So instead she retreats. She turns on her heel and walks away from it all, even as he calls after her with taunts, trying to bait her into staying.

No. Rey refuses to stoop to that level. She refuses to become anything like Kylo Ren.

  
  


***

They go back to avoiding each other. Rey stops her cleaning frenzy. She stops gardening, stops sorting through antiques, trying to decide what’s useful and what’s trash. But she refuses to curl up in defeat.

Instead she starts to wake up bright and early. She pushes the furniture all up against the walls in the sitting room, temporarily vanishing whatever remains in her ways, and she begins to go through the motions of her wand movement.

She practices spell after spell, defensive, offensive. Even easy stuff, things she had mastered her earliest days at Hogwarts. She practices until her arms began to ache, protesting with every jab and swish. 

Sometimes she feels his gaze upon her. He doesn’t come down from the upper floors often, and when he does his trips are restricted to essentially the kitchen. Kylo grabs his food and always retreats back upstairs, never saying a word nor meeting Rey’s eye.

But this time she notices the shift in the room She can feel his eyes on the back of her neck.

“Immobulus!” She shouts and the wooden practice dummy she had conjured immediately stops moving. It goes slack and still.

There’s a creak of the floorboards, the sound of footsteps retreating back upstairs.

Rey returns to her work.

***

They gather in the basement. At first, Rey’s not sure why. Meetings usually take place in the dining room, sometimes the sitting room if there’s just a smaller group. But as people continue to file in, Rey realizes this is the most Resistance members she has ever seen, all gathered beneath one roof.

And they had all come together to see Kylo Ren, all eager to get a chance to see Snoke’s right hand, vulnerable and exposed under the power of a truth potion.

It made Rey’s stomach clench and churn, made bile build in the back of her throat.

She debated about even going. Because despite the fact that this is war and he is the enemy, there is something about this that feels off to Rey, that feels wrong. Because he’s not just the enemy. He’s not some nameless face, not some monster that’s done nothing but hurt and inflict pain.

Or maybe that’s just the part of her that is still holding onto the past, that can’t seem to let go. The lines of who Ben Solo was and who Kylo Ren is have once begun to blur, and instead of being the boy from her past or the man from the present, he’s become a mash-up, an amalgamation of both.

He’s entirely a shade of gray, one that doesn’t seem good nor bad, but instead just human.

Poe motions to an empty seat beside him but Rey shakes her head. She stays in the back of the room, hangs back leaning against the cool stone wall, hopefully, hidden in the shadows.

She doesn’t want him to see her, to know that she’s there. That she’s just as bad as the rest of them, all gathered to spectate like it’s a riveting game of Exploding Snap.

A hush falls over as Leia enters the room, but the low rumble of chatter emerges as soon as everyone’s eyes lay upon him.

Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. 

Of course there had been the wanted posters. Of course many had recognized his face and connected the dots. Others had not. They did not remember the quiet, sulking boy who could be caught doing calligraphy in the library, or wrapped up tight with a blue and bronze scarf during the winter months.

Even fewer knew his connection to their fearless leader.

Something that Rey thought should change, but then again that wasn’t her secret to tell.

Her eyes remain fixated upon his moving form, as her arms wrap around herself in an effort to feel protective, to try and maintain some warmth in the coldness of the basement.

A chair has been set aside, separate from the rest and that’s where Kylo sits. It’s almost comical, his large frame on the kitchen chair, the wood creaking as he shifts his weight. If this was any other situation, any other scenario then Rey would be filing away to tease him about this. Maybe she still would have, had their argument in the garden not come to head.

Leia ducks her head down, and she murmurs something quietly into Kylo’s ear. He nods, but his jaw works back and forth, and his hands come to rest on his knees, his grip tight and his knuckles pale.

“We’ll begin.” Leia makes the announcement, her voice crisp and clear. The Resistance begins to quiet down. Luke appears, hands off a small vial to his sister. Even in the dimly lit basement, Rey can make out the clear glass, its contents as unassuming and plain as tap water. 

The vial is dwarfed by Kylo’s large hand. He raises to his lips and takes a small sip. 

_ “Three drops would suffice,” _ She remembers Professor Anitlles lecturing them during her fifth year. It would only take a small amount to loosen anyone’s tongue.

It’s hard to tell when the effects take place. Kylo hands the potion back to his mother, his features neutral and blank. But there’s a small twitch to his eye. His fingers begin to drum against his knees.

“Please state your given name,” Leia instructs, her manner collected and calm.

“Benjamin Organa Solo.”

There’s a murmur through the crowd. One person has the audacity to gasp. But Leia ignores it, carrying on with the questions.

“Please state the name you have adopted since joining the ranks of the First Order.”

“Kylo Ren.”

They go back to forth, almost like a game of tennis. She asks him pointed questions, easy ones at first but gradually more and more difficult, all to build a sense of legitimacy, to prove that the potion is working. There’s a sense of efficiency to it, a professionalism, much like a well-oiled machine.

It makes Rey begin to wonder how many times Leia has used veritaserum before.

“Please tell the assembled what events caused you to offer yourself and risking your life, to betray the First Order, and offer your services as a double agent.”

For the first time since the interrogation started, Kylo seems to hesitate. He shifts forward in the chair, slides his jaw left and right, as if delaying the inevitable.

“Please-” Leia begins to say, clearly ready to repeat the question but Kylo pauses her with a raised hand. He clears his throat, then his baritone, now at this point a low rumble, rolls through the air.

“I was instructed by Snoke to try and attempt to infiltrate the Resistance. I was told I was a prime candidate due to my lineage and connection to numerous Resistance members. However, that was easier said than done.”

He shifts again. An eerie silence has once more fallen over the room. No one dares to move, to speak, even to breathe.

Kylo continues on. “I suspected this location of being used as a base, but could not confirm my suspicions. I also could not get in. Neither could any other member of the First Order due to the fidelius charm being used to hide the house. So I had to go about other means.”

“The First Order has numerous members strategically placed throughout the Ministry, including,” He shifts again. “The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even more specifically, the Auror office.”

Rey feels her body go entirely still.

“I intercepted information from our spy, that Rey Niima and her team were to be sent out on an assignment. It was also suspected that Rey Niima was a new member of the Resistance. I thought this would be an easier route to infiltrate the Resistance.”

She can feel heads beginning to turn, can feel the intensity of their stares as more and more members glance her way.

Leia opens her mouth as if she’s going to ask a question, before she seemingly changes her mind. With a small, thoughtful frown on her lips, she gives a small nod, encouraging Kylo to continue on.

“Rey Niima and her team set up camp in a patch of woods not far from Ben Nevis. They put up the proper protective charms, and for the most part, remained hidden and out of sight. I watched and waited to see if an opportunity would present itself.”

He stops, almost abruptly, pressing his lips together tightly as he sits up, his back as straight and upright as if his spine had been replaced with a metal rod.

“Yes?” Leia presses, urging him to continue on.

The words burst from him now, as if a dam had been removed and the water has no choice but to rush forward, aggressive and fast. “Rey Niima left the protection of the Auror camp. She was looking for firewood, kept picking up stick after stick. But we weren’t the only ones in the woods. There were other members of the First Order there. They had been sent to try and sway a group of nearby werewolves into joining Snoke’s ranks. That’s what I thought at least, but Snoke must have had either doubts about my intentions, or just wanted to make sure I got the job done. Maybe he thought I was taking too long. Maybe he just wanted to give me a push. Either way, once I-” He stops again. His face contorts, almost as if he’s in pain.

Rey steps forward out of the shadows, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

“Once I saw her, I could not go through with it.”

“Her being Miss Niima?” Leia clarifies.

Kylo nods, and he’s trying to fight it. He’s trying to fight against the effects of the potion, but with a gasp his lips part and he’s speaking again. “Yes. Rey Niima. After I saw her, I just could not go through with it.”

“And why is that?”

Rey begins to move. She’s trying to push her way through the packed basement, trying to get out before he speaks again. This is not something that she should hear, not something that she wants to hear. Not like this. No, not one the choice has been taken from him.

“Because I love her.”

Her entire body goes numb. She stops moving, stops thinking. Everything just stops.

This was clearly not the confession Leia had been expecting. This was not how this conversation was meant to go.

“You love-” The leader of the Resistance blinks, looks baffled for a single moment before the vision of composure has returned to her face. “Since when?”

“Hogwarts.” Kylo gasps. Rey hears the sound of the chair legs being dragged across the stone floor. She can’t help but to glance over her shoulder, to see him standing, pacing back and forth like an animal kept in captivity far too long.

“I always noticed her, but it wasn’t until my fifth year that I began to notice her more-”

“Professor-” Finn is standing up now, a small frown on his face as he looks from Kylo to Leia. “Professor this really isn’t the information that we need to hear-”

But Leia merely raises a hand and shakes her head. To Kylo she turns and says, “Continue on.”

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t use her, couldn’t betray her.” Each word is torn from his lips with a gasp, almost as if it pains him to do so. “I knew what I had to do, I just didn’t know if I had the strength to do it.”

For Rey, the room suddenly seems too warm, and she is dizzy. She shouldn’t hear the rest of this. But it’s like her legs had been bewitched to be made of concrete. It’s like the body binding curse had taken effect, but this time had worked on her lower half and nothing else.

“So you come across Miss Niima in the woods and-”

“She pulled her wand on me. She was getting ready to attack. But I got there first. I used a freezing charm on her, but after I heard the First Order soldiers getting closer, I- I panicked.”

“You panicked.” 

Kylo shoots his mother a glare before his eyes drop to the floor. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I used a stunning spell on Rey to knock her unconscious, and then I apparated both of us out of the forest.”

“And you came here.”

“I came here.” Kylo confirms. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, the confession, whatever this is defined as. Rey’s chest rises and falls in rapid succession, as the feeling returns to her legs. She’s seen enough, has heard enough.

“Rey-” She hears Dameron say her name as she makes her way out of the room, but it falls upon deaf ears. She just needs some space, some air.

For once she wants to feel free, to feel as if she’s no longer trapped.

Making her way up the stairs, Rey keeps moving. She doesn’t stop until she’s out back in the garden. 

But even surrounded by all of the plants, the grass, the trees it doesn’t feel far enough.

For the first time since being taken to Grimmauld Place, Rey feels trapped. Everything is pressing down and closing in. For the first time, she feels as if she’s truly stuck, caged in.

Her mind is still reeling, still trying to process the words.

“I love her.” His voice had said.

She stays outside until the moon shines high in the sky and the temperature drops. She stays until her fingers go numb and she can’t feel her toes. Only once she’s sure that everyone is gone, does she slip back inside.

The sight of Leia seated at the kitchen table catches her off guard. “I thought you would have left.” Rey quietly says as she makes a beeline for one of the cabinets. She sets to work, grabbing a glass and then the jug of water from the fridge. She’s not actually thirsty but it feels good to have something for her hands to do, to keep her focus away from Leia.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Leia answers. “I know that was… a lot for you. Unexpected.”

All Rey can offer is a shrug in response. But there’s one question gnawing at the back of her mind. One that she knows will just cause her to toss and turn all night until she gets an answer. “Did everyone vote? Did they make a decision?”

The older woman shakes her head, her hands folded neatly before her on top of the table. “No, not yet. This isn’t something to be taken lightly or rushed.”

Warmth floods her cheeks. She looks down, feeling slightly like a scolded child. “I know that I just- The veritaserum-”

“It’s not foolproof. There’s loopholes, ways around it. Sometimes it simply doesn’t work on witches or wizards. Some who are well trained in Occlumency know how to block its effects. Besides, the person taking it tells the truth.  _ Their _ truth, which can still be warped by their own thoughts and feelings. It’s the truth through their eyes, not the most factual version of the story.”

Rey lifts her chin, her brow furrowing. “Then why did you do that? Why did you put him through it?”

Leia seems to almost hesitate. She pauses, as if mulling over her response. “Because it was the only thing I could think of. It was the only thing that made sense.”

“You were testing him.” Rey states and even she is surprised by the coolness to her own voice. 

“Of course I was,” Leia responds indignantly, rising from her chair. “He betrayed me, Rey. He betrayed you, all of us when he went off with Snoke-”

“You were supposed to be questioning him like the leader of the Resistance, not his mother-”

“I did what I had to do.” Leia’s eyes flash, a warning, a signal for Rey to stop pushing, to not take this too far. “My hands were tied. My options were limited. I did not know his intentions for coming here. I did not know about your- your  _ history- _ ”

“We don’t have one.” The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them.

It catches Leia off guard. She blinks once, twice. “He said-”

“He never did anything. We never talked, never interacted. Twice, I think we crossed paths at Hogwarts-” Her voice trails off, not knowing what else to say. What else could she say? It was the truth. Everything between them; everything that Rey had experienced, that Ben had felt… it had all been inside their respective heads.

There’s a lull in the conversation, as it seems to meet a natural end. Rey moves to put her untouched glass of water into the sink, watches the clear liquid as it swirls down the drain.

“I should go talk to him.” She doesn’t mean to think out loud.

Again Leia hesitates before she speaks. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her words come out cautious and slow.

They take Rey by surprise. She turns, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Why not?”

“He needs some space. The after-effects of the potion aren’t fun-”

Already she’s moving, crossing the kitchen. “Has anyone checked on him? Made sure he’s alright?”

“He’s fine. He wants to be left alone.” The finality of Leia’s words stop Rey in her tracks.

Stuck at a crossroads, torn about what to do, Rey just stands there, basking in her uncertainty.

The headmistress crosses the room, placing a hand briefly on Rey’s shoulder as she passes by. “Give him some time, Rey. Give him some space. When he’s ready, he’ll come to you.”

With that she leaves the kitchen, the velvet material of her navy cloak swishing behind her.

Rey is good at waiting. She’s good at being patient.

The only thing she’s ever been terrible at, is her feelings for Ben Solo.

  
  



	4. chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben deal with the aftermath of his interrogation, both separately and together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're earning our E rating this chapter.
> 
> again thank you so much for every comment! i promise i'll reply, just waiting for anon to go off of this exchange in order to help conceal my identity. 
> 
> katara, most of all i'm glad you're enjoying it.

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For thirty minutes she had paced back and forth, practically wearing a hole into the wooden planks of the living room floorboards. Her whole body felt on edge, wired and full of nothing but endless energy. Which maybe is why she roots through the liquor cabinet in the dining room, dusting off a bottle of scotch, not bothering to check the year or if it would even still be any good.

Then she returns to the sitting room and the pacing begins again. Except now, it is punctuated with drinks from the heavy, thick bottle, amber liquid burning down her throat with each sip.

She barely lasts another half hour, and In the end, Rey gives Kylo an hour in total before she’s standing in the upstairs corridor, knocking on his door.

“Go away.” He barks.

Rey raises her hand, raps her knuckles against the wood of the door. There’s a pause, nothing but silence on his end. So she tries knocking again and-

The door flies open. “I said go-” The rest of his words die on his lips. Rey’s not sure who he thought was on the other side of the door, but based on the way his jaw goes slack and his eyes go slightly wide, he was not expecting her.

“Can we talk?” Rey asks, but she doesn’t give him a chance to answer, the scotch in her bloodstream already making her feel impatient and bold. Already she’s brushing past him and into the bedroom, which is, to put it lightly, a mess.

The duvet had been ripped off the bed. The top of a dresser looks as if it had been swiped clean in one, fatal swoop, all of its belongings now sitting in a heap on the floor. One of the wardrobe doors is partially off its hinges, and there are clothes strewn about; hanging off the edge of his bed, piled onto a chair in the corner.

There’s a fist-size hole in the drywall as well.

She looks from the hole, back to Kylo. The conversation remains at a standstill, and for a moment, they just stare at one another.

“If you’re coming to discuss what I said under veritaserum-”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” She interrupts, her fingertips tracing along the edge of the dresser. 

He pauses, frowns. “Okay.” The word is drawn out, his tone confused.

Rey can’t blame him, either. For the confusion. For the mess.

_ I love her, _ his voice keeps echoing in her mind.  _ I love her _ . 

_ But that wasn’t him, _ another voice answers back.  _ Not truly. That was him without a choice, without a say. _

She pushes the voices away, pushes the warning alarms that keep going off in her mind, the list of every reason that she shouldn’t be here, that she should leave why she can. The line has yet to be crossed. There’s still a chance she could come out of this unscathed.

Unscathed. An ironic smirk spills across her lips, and she ducks her head. It’s far too late for that.

“I don’t want to talk,” Rey repeats again, trying to control the quaver in her voice, trying to stop her fingertips from shaking, from her whole body vibrating with this pent up energy. Except it’s so much more than that. For one look at him, one glance of the way his sweater fits tight across his chest, to the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, everything pink and soft, she knows that she’s doomed. She’s stared at him, has studied his form both as a gangly teen and now as a grown man. Rey knows what she wants, knows why she’s here.

“I don’t want to think.” They’re practically circling one another, moving slowly forwards as if drawn by an invisible force, as if being guided by an invisible hand. 

“What do you want?” Kylo asks in a low murmur, a touch raspy, and hoarse.

Her eyes lift to meet his. And there it is - the answer. The thing they’ve been dancing around for weeks, months, years. The line in the sand they’ve been toeing, have been getting near to, yet never crossing.

Because of her job. Because of who he is. Because of everything that’s happening around him and the choices they had made.

They continue to circle one another, slowly closing the distance between the two. Suddenly the air feels hot, and Rey begins to feel pressure building between her legs. She presses her thighs together but it doesn’t do anything for her, it isn’t enough. 

His hand rises, his fingers skimming up along her arm, across her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. Every place that he touches feels as if she’s caught aflame, and all her mind can think is an endless chant of  _ more, more, more. _

He ducks his head. She lifts her hand, presses her palm against his chest and she can feel it, the radiating rhythm of his heartbeat. His body is crowding around her, his arms encircling her while his nose skims against her cheek, the shell of her ear. She can hear him exhale as they press their bodies closer together, can hear the hitch in his breath as his groin comes to meet hers.

She can feel him growing hard against her.

_ This _ , Rey wants to say.  _ This is what I want. You. Us. _ But her mouth feels dry, her throat hoarse. Words aren’t coming easily, which leaves her capable of one thing. To show him what she 

wants, what she needs.

Except she does not need to show him. No, he already knows.

His mouth presses against her cheek, and Rey’s lips part, her eyes flickering shut as her body juts forward, seeking relief for how tight her cunt feels -empty and throbbing. Her panties have begun to get wet, the smell of sex beginning to infiltrate the air.

“Oh-” His hand brushes against the curve of her breast, tentative as if he’s testing the waters. Then he’s cupping her, palming at her chest through the material of her sweater. She can feel her nipples begin to pebble, to grow hard underneath her bra.

More. She wants more.

His lips drop from her jawline to her neck, and he begins to nip and suck, his tongue lapping at the soft, sensitive flesh. Rey’s head tilts back and her hands reach out to touch him more. They begin to wander, up and down along his sides, his back. She rakes her fingernails down his spine. Anything to find purchase, to find something to hold onto.

She’s begun to spiral, can already feel herself losing, relinquishing control. 

“Kylo-” His name slips from her lips, and she feels his body go rigid against hers.

“Ben.” He rasps.

“Hm?” Rey blinks away some of the daze from her mind. 

“Ben. I want you to call me Ben.”

“Ben.” She echos, his name sounding like honey from her lips. “Ben.” It seems natural, feels right. And now that she’s begun to say his name, she’s not sure if she can bring herself to stop.

Lifting her chin, his face hovers above hers. His eyes flicker to her lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. Once again that magnetic pull is at work, drawing them in, shifting their bodies closer and closer.

Then they meet in the middle. Their lips touch and every piece falls into place.

Her tongue prods at the seam of his lips and quickly he opens, welcoming her in, his tongue tracing against her own. His hands are moving now; in her hair, at the base of her neck, her back, her breasts. He’s touching her frantically and she returns his movements with a jut of her hips, to try and press herself closer and closer and closer…

Rey exhales through her nose and Ben groans, the sound muffled by the kiss. In a flurry of motion, their clothes fall from their bodies. She tugs his sweater up over his head, while he flicks open the button of her jeans with surprisingly deft fingers despite their massive size.

Fuck. His  _ fingers _ .

They stumble together through the bedroom, tripping over displaced items and bumping into furniture. But every bruise and every ache is quickly soothed away by the taste of his mouth and the touch of his hands.

Parting, Rey tries to catch her breath. Her mind is spinning. Everything is happening so fast, and suddenly she feels as if she’s clinging on a ride, unable to do anything but hold on for dear life. 

She’s down to her bra and knickers, while Ben stands in nothing but his boxers, the front of which are tented, his dick hard and at attention. Rey finds her eyes lingering there, marveling at the size and wondering just how 

Every movement feels sloppy and rushed, every kiss tastes like scotch mixed with toothpaste mixed with something so specifically him. It’s intoxicating, and suddenly her head is spinning, and Rey doesn’t know whether to blame the scotch or him.

She stumbles backward, the back of her thighs colliding with the hard front of the dresser. She’s trapped now, cornered between the piece of furniture and Ben’s body, which keeps pressing forward, keeps crowding into her space. 

His mouth is working along her neck, the top of her shoulder blades. He grabs her bra strap with between his teeth and gives a sharp tug, the edges of his teeth brushing against her skin. 

The thin undergarments suddenly feel too thick, too bulky and scratchy. Rey reaches behind her, fumbling with the clasp while his mouth continues its downward journey. His tongue traces the line of her cleavage, leaves hot open mouth kisses along her abdomen before he’s on her knees before her, his mouth hot and present over the apex of her thighs.

Ben’s thick fingers hook around the waistband of her panties. He tugs sharply, and Rey lets out a gasp as the soaking wet garment is pulled down over the curve of her ass, and down her thighs. She steps out of them and they’re quickly tossed to join the rest of the discarded clothing, somewhere in his room.

His hot breath curls against her bare leg, as he begins to press open mouth kisses along her inner thigh. She reaches down, cards her fingers through his dark hair, and as he begins to lap at her dripping cunt, Rey can’t help but to give a sharp tug.

“You like that?”

She can hear the smirk in his voice. Refusing to give him any satisfaction, she bites into her bottom lip, refusing to provide the answer that he seeks. In retaliation, he licks her again, like she’s a tall cone of strawberry and peanut butter ice cream bought at Florean Fortescue’s on a hot summer’s day.

Then he sucks.

“ _ Fuck _ .” The word hisses from between clenched teeth and her hips jut forward, seeking more from his mouth. He chuckles, the sound deep and low. Rey’s panting now, her body feeling flushed and aflame. Every touch of his hands, every swipe of his tongue feels so good and yet… yet it’s still not enough.

As if Ben’s reading her mind, she feels him press a finger at her entrance, slowly slipping inside until he’s knuckle deep. She inhales sharply, but her body is quickly adjusting, beginning to seek friction, movement,  _ more. _

His pace is teasingly slow. He withdraws his fingers, takes a moment to pause, and then is repeating the action, over and over again, each movement barely increasing in speed. Rey begins to cant her hips forward, trying to change the tempo on her own. She’s always been taking care of herself, has always had to look out for herself. Never before had Rey had qualms about doing what needed done to survive, to thrive. Her experience with sex had been pretty similar. A boyfriend or two over the years, and a couple of dates that had ended with, ‘want to go back to my place?’ 

It had never felt as good with a partner though, as well as it had felt on her own. She knew what needed to be done for her to get off, to flick off her brain for a moment and get some release. Even then, it had to be a perfect storm, a combination of all the right things at all the right times, and maybe, if she could turn off her mind for long enough…

But it had all paled in comparison to this, to him. Already she could feel the pressure building in the pit of her stomach, could feel herself growing slick against his fingers. 

“Eager, are you?” Ben withdrawals his fingers, leaving her feeling empty and hollow. She wines in protest, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. Everything feels as if it’s been engulfed in a haze, and all her mind can process is the closeness of him. Looking through the fog, with heavy-lidded eyes, she watches as he brings his fingertips to his nose, watches as he inhales her scent before his tongue darts out, ready to lap up the wetness,  _ her _ wetness, until each of his digits is sucked clean.

Rey feels as if she could come from that sight alone, watching the soft pinkness of his tongue moving over each thick finger. The fingers that had been inside of her mere moments ago.

“Fuck.” She swears, her hand already shifting to rub at her clit, only to be batted away by Ben. 

“Turn around.” He orders, and Rey had never before been so quick to listen to a command. She flips over, her palms splayed across the top of the dresser, the wood finish feeling as smooth as satin beneath her fingertips. 

She feels his hips brush against hers, feels his fingers digging into her hips, holding her still and in place. The anticipation is nerve-wracking, and Rey has to bite her bottom lip to keep from shouting for him to hurry up already. She’s trying and failing to not squirm, her weight shifting from foot to foot, which only causes his grip to tighten enough that she’s sure she’s going to bruise.

At this rate, he’s going to have her marked from head to toe. To her surprise, Rey doesn’t even care.

Let him mark her. Let him brand her. He could tattoo ‘property of Ben Solo’ across her forehead at this point, she wouldn’t really care. Just as long as he fills her again, just as long as he makes this wait worth it.

“Are you- Do I need to,” Ben begins to ask, clearing his throat as he trails off. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up, to realize just what he’s trying to ask her.

“No.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes in an attempt to focus. She nods again, wetting her lips, the words hard to come by. “Contraceptive draught. Take it once a month.” It was probably more information than he needed to know, but at the moment she really didn’t care. Long gone was the stage of awkward discussions. Not when she could feel him, hard and erect brushing against her backside. Not when she could feel herself practically dripping between her legs in want and anticipation.

He moves behind her, shifting and adjusting. Then he’s sliding into her, filling and stretching her until his hips are flush against her ass. Her breath quickens, and her fingers scramble to find something to hold onto, something to grip. She feels like she’s being torn into two, and it’s the most antagonizing and deliciously wonderful sensation she’s ever felt before.

Ben pauses for a moment, and she can feel the curl of his hot breath against her neck as he pants. Apparently Rey isn’t the only one who needs a pause to catch their breath to adjust to the new sensation.

“Fuck.” He swears underneath his breath. His fingertips are still digging into her hip, his other surges forward, his palm slamming down onto the dresser as Rey shifts, trying to create some sense of friction, of movement between their bodies.

She presses back against him, repeating the minuscule motion over and over again. His body curls around hers, his chest pressed against her back as he brushes his lips over the back of her neck, then down along the ridges of her spine. “Impatient.” His mouth moves against her hot skin, and Rey thrusts back against him with more momentum. 

Ben seems to catch the hint. Grabbing hold of her hips with both hands, he sets his own relentless pace, pulling back and then thrusting back into her. The smell of sex becomes thick in the air, accompanied by the sounds of their naked bodies slapping together. Rey feels her breath catch in her throat, and she’s now just holding onto the ledge of the dresser, trying to find purchase on the glossy surface. 

They both began to babble, chanting one another’s names and other nonsense, each word punctuated by a hitch of their breath, or a wanton moan. Rey begins to lose track of what noises are coming from her lips, and which are coming from his. They mingle together, becoming as connected as their bodies.

The only thing she knows for certain is the building of the climax between her legs. She can feel herself so close to reaching it, to finally obtaining that feeling of pure euphoria and bliss.

“Close-” He rasps in her ear, and she can feel his hips wildly stuttering against the curve of her ass. Rey shoves a hand between her own body and the dresser, ignoring the sting as her knuckle scrapes against the knobs of the drawers. Her fingers find her clit and she begins to rub, begins to encircle the bundle of nerves over and over again, her pace trying to match the relentless way Ben continues to fuck her.

She comes with a loud moan, followed by the chant of his name. It’s dangerous, how easily  _ Ben _ falls from her lips, how willing she had been to give herself to a man whose true intentions she didn’t know. After all they were no longer kids at Hogwarts saving one another from mishaps on broomsticks in the rain, or picking up fallen quills and books on a stairwell. There is so much more happening in the outside world, so much that was bigger than just the two of them. Yet right now, nothing else seemed to matter. Everything else was merely white noise. She had tunnel vision, focused entirely on him.

Her body feels boneless as she collapses onto the dresser top, and mere seconds later she can feel him coming, spitting hot streams of cum inside her. For a moment they both just stay there, Rey sprawled out with Ben’s body covering her own. The sounds of their moans are exchanged for heavy panting as they both try to catch their breath.

The fog begins to lift. Not much, but enough that they begin to separate. He pulls from her, still half-hard and Rey can feel his cum beginning to drip down along her inner thighs. She should find her wand, should clean up the mess, but the idea of standing on her own two feet seems daunting enough, let alone walking any far distances.

They fall into bed together, limbs shaking and minds still reeling. Rey revels in the way the pillows and sheets smell like him, and the fact that she can still feel his body, sticky and smelling of sweat beside her. She enjoys the fact that she can still feel his come dribbling out of her, but perhaps the best feeling of them all is the dull, satisfying way her cunt throbs.

It’s a welcome distraction. One that means, even for the briefest of moments, she’s able to forget about the war, about the Resistance, about the bloodshed and the death. She can forget that this is a war neither of them might live to see the end. 

For a moment, she can just find solace in his body as he does the same with hers.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

They’ve been lying in bed, the room dark and the air cool, though it still smelled of sweat and sex. Idly she drums her fingers against his chest, begins to encircle and trace every mole, freckle, and scar that decorates his pale skin. The buzz has begun to wear off, leaving Rey feeling sleepy and sedated, though not quite ready to give up this moment and succumb to sleep.

He hums in response, his eyelids heavy and his hand idly scratching her bare back. “Tell you what?

“How you felt. We barely talked at school. I didn’t think you even knew I existed.”

Ben shifts beneath her and his fingers still on her back. “I knew who you were. I noticed you. I looked for you I just-” He exhales, his breath hot as it curls against her cheek. “I didn’t know how to communicate. Fuck, I still don’t. I had so much else going on and I-” His words trail off.

Rey lifts her head, resting her chin against his chest so she can look him in the eye. She lifts a hand, running the pad of her thumb along the bridge of his nose. She begins to trace over his features; his eyebrows, the bow of his lips, his cheeks, as if she was trying to memorize and trace every part of him.

“You what?” She gently presses.

“You were always around people.” 

His answer catches Rey off guard. She sits up more, the duvet falling from her naked form, and her skin breaks out into goose flesh once exposed to the cool air. “I was always around people?” She raises an eyebrow, unable to fight that smile that begins to spread across her lips. “You make it sound as if I was popular-”

“You  _ were _ -” Ben insists, rising with her. He leans his back against the headboard and draws his arms around Rey, pulling her into his lap. “You always had someone talking beside you in the corridors about Quidditch, or asking to copy your notes in the Great Hall or just- you always had people around you.”

“Except for that night on the pitch.”

“Yeah,” He nods, ducking his head to press his lips briefly to hers. Rey melts into the kiss, wondering if she will ever grow tired of this feeling, of him.

She can feel the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he smirks into the kiss. They part, but stay close, their foreheads touching. “Is that why you came over? Because I was alone? You thought this was your chance?”

“No,” Ben lifts a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “No, I was still sorting out my feelings by then. You were only a third year”

Rey gwaffs. “I’m only two years younger than you. That’s not exactly a groundbreaking age gap-”

“Yeah but when you’re a fifth year it seems like it might as well be.”

She huffs, jutting her bottom lip out slightly but drops it. There’s a teasing glint to her eye, and she settles in his lap, reaching for the discarded duvet to pull over their bare forms. A silence falls between them, and after a moment, Rey can feel Ben carding his fingers through her hair.

Humming in appreciation, she leans back against him even more, her eyes feeling heavy and her body feeling worn. There’s a delicious ache between her legs, and just the thought of what he had done to her, of what together they had just done, causes her to squirm.

There’s things they need to discuss. Things they need to talk about, to figure out. Everything is weighing so precariously right now, everything seems to be hanging in such a delicate balance.

But Rey doesn’t want to ruin this moment. No, talking can wait. Right now she wants to enjoy the feeling of his bare skin against hers, of his arms wrapped around her, protective and warm. Right now she wants to soak in every moment she can with him, before reality once again rears its ugly head.

For right now, burying her head in the sand had never felt so good.

***

Sunlight streams in through a crack in the curtains, bright and intrusive. Rey groans, rolling over in the bed, her head pounding and her tongue dry.

Bed. Bed? 

She sits up abruptly, causing her head to give a painful throb and her stomach lurch. Sure enough, she’s not in the sitting room where she still ends up falling asleep most nights. She’s not even in one of the spare bedrooms, where she sometimes goes if a meeting downstairs has gone too late. The one farthest from his, where she had unpacked her meager belongings after she realized this wasn’t going to be a short stay.

His room.

The last moments of sleep are whisked away. Rey looks around, takes in the sight of the wardrobe, one of it’s doors still partially open. To the sheets, twisted and tangled at the foot of the bed. She sees clothes strewn about, most notably the jeans and top she had been wearing the night before.

Her bra and knickers must be somewhere around here too..

She gets up and every muscle in her body seems to protest and groan. But her head is still pounding and her mouth is dry, and Rey wants a paracetamol, a glass of water, and also to see him. 

Maybe even a piece of chocolate.

Digging through the scattered laundry, Rey can locate her knickers but not her bra. Her clothes from yesterday smell like scotch and sweat, and both her wand and the clothes in her own wardrobe seem too far away. Instead, Rey finds a large, dark flannel that seems clean enough. The fabric is worn and smooth as she slips it on over her bare skin. The best part is that it smells like him.

Despite her pounding head and aching joints, Rey has a slight spring to her step. For the first time in such a long time, there feels like there’s hope upon the horizon. It might come all crashing down any moment, but for now she’s reveling in the fact that ignorance is bliss. 

Her fingers move swiftly, buttoning up the flannel as she walks down the hallway. The shirt’s too large for her frame, the sleeves covering her hands, though the hem of the flannel barely hits her mid thigh. 

“Ben?” Rey calls out as she hops down the last of the few steps. She’s met with silence. Frowning slightly, she looks around. The sitting room is empty, same with the dining room. Just as she’s about to say his name again, she hears the muffled sound of a cabinet drawer being pushed shut.

Kitchen.

A smile stretches over her lips, unable to be contained even if she had tried. “Ben-” It’s the only word she can get out of her mouth before she falters. Because yes, Ben is leaning against the countertop, his arms folded across his chest, causing the sleeves of his tee to become strained and tight.

But at the table sits his mother and uncle, both who turn to see Rey. 

Standing in the doorway. 

Wearing nothing but a shirt that clearly does not belong to her.

“Shit.” Ben swears, which only adds to the humiliation of the situation.

For a moment everyone just stares at Rey, who in turn remains frozen on the spot, unsure if it would make everything better or worse if she just turned on her heel and fled.

Leia is the one who breaks the tension. “Rey, please have a seat. We were just finishing here.” It’s a command, not a suggestion, the kind that has Rey regressing back to her school days. She says nothing but does as she’s told, slipping into a chair at the kitchen table, as far away from Luke and Leia as she can.

Not that it matters, because the moment Rey sits, the other two are rising. She tells herself it’s coincidental, that it has nothing to do with her, but the sting becomes hard to ignore.

Luke won’t even meet her eye. Not that she really wants him to look her way, it just… it would be better than this. Than the way that he’s avoiding her, his jaw is a hard, clenched line that even his beard can’t hide. It makes Rey squirm in her seat, feeling like a bitter disappointment.

In an attempt to distract herself, she grabs a piece of toast off of one of the platters, smearing the crusty bread with butter and jam. She takes a bite but it tastes like cardboard on her tongue.

“You’ll let me know your decision?” Leia’s addressing her son before she turns to go. He responds with a curt nod. Rey looks between the two, trying to read between the lines but neither mother or son are revealing much of anything. 

Leia bids her goodbyes, while Luke remains in stony silence. The moment they leave and Rey hears the front door latching shut, she’s on her feet, moving towards Ben. “What was that about? Decision about what?”

Ben turns, begins to rinse the dishes that are in the sink. He holds a mug underneath the stream of hot water long after the remnants of coffee have already been cleaned. She frowns, looking from his hands to his face, trying to catch his eye.

“Ben-”

He drops the cup and abruptly turns, his damp fingers threading through her hair as his mouth crashes onto hers. For a moment she’s too startled by the kiss, and she merely stands there, limp and frozen. But the shock is fleeting, and Rey finds herself parting her lips and tilting her head, her own hands coming up to grip the front of his tee shirt.

His body crowds her, guiding her back until she hits the counter with a muffled groan, though Rey can’t be sure who the noise belongs to, her or him. The kiss tastes bitter, like black coffee mingled with morning breath, but Rey finds that she doesn’t mind. Already she can feel him growing hard as he rocks his groin against her.

“Ben-” She murmurs against his lips, trying to pull back, trying to get some space, some air. Her mind feels dizzy, and he’s kissing her neck now, sucking and nipping. “Ben, stop- We need to talk-.” Rey tries again, but it seems his name is falling upon deaf ears.

He continues his descent, his nose tracing along her collarbone as his hands dip beneath the hem of her flannel, no, _ his _ flannel shirt. She can feel him mouthing at her pebbled nipples beneath the worn fabric, her body reacting as her panties begin to feel damp. His fingertips skirt across her thighs, drumming along her skin as he works his way up. A thumb hooks around her underwear, gives a sharp tug and-

She pushes him away, her chest rising and falling, her face flushed. “Stop.” She orders, and immediately he begins to pace, fingers working through his hair. “What’s up with you? What’s going on?”

Once more she is met with stony silence, her questions not just going unanswered but unacknowledged as well.

“Fucking hell,” Rey mutters and now she’s the one on the move, storming from the kitchen. The last thing she wants is to just be standing around, wearing his shirt and her knickers from yesterday that reak of sex.

“Rey- stop-” He catches up to her with a couple quick strides, something that only adds fire to her fury. His fingers begin to curl around her wrist, trying to slow her down, pull her to a stop.

“What?” She rounds on him, yanking her arm from his grasp. “You don’t want to talk? Fine. But I’m not going to waste my day badgering you for answers.”

“We didn’t talk before!” Ben retorts back. “One fuck and you think suddenly we’re what? Together? That you’re suddenly privy to every piece of information about my life? We had sex. We didn’t promise some Unbreakable Vow.”

The urge to slap him is strong. Red fills her vision, the color vibrant and angry, and her brain can’t even process every ridiculous word he’s saying. Mostly though, mostly she’s just mad at herself. For not seeing this coming, for not knowing that of course last night meant nothing. Of course it would bring them back exactly to square one, opposed to moving forward.

“Fuck you, Solo.” Rey finally settles on, but the words feel stiff and belated on her tongue. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to hang around to hear his rebuttal. She practically runs up the stairs and into the bedroom with her things, slamming the door shut behind her. 

Her fingers go for her wand, but it’s still downstairs, most likely sitting in the same spot where it had been left yesterday. A growl of annoyance slips from her throat. She wants to  _ do  _ something _ ,  _ to hit someone, or break something.

In the end, Rey settles on a shower. She wants to be rid of his shirt, wants to wash the scent of him from her skin. She stays under the stream of hot water until it runs cold, until her skin is pink and scrubbed raw, and the pads of her fingers and toes are wrinkled. Her body smells like whatever generic soap that was stocked in there, and she only comes out once every trace of him is gone.

With the towel wrapped securely beneath her arms and around her body, she enters her bedroom.

Only to find Ben… Kylo…  _ that asshole _ sitting on the edge of her bed.

“I have to report back to Snoke.”

Of all the things Rey thought he might say, that had not been on the list.

She adjusts her hold on the towel, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Part of her wants to continue ignoring him, to just carry on and out of the room, giving him nothing but the cold shoulder. But the Auror inside of her has nothing but follow up questions. And the other part of her… the part that she doesn’t want to think about or begin to unpack… that part of her is concerned. 

“You have to.” She echoes, her voice distant and cool. 

“He sent a message. I’ve been gone for so long-” His jaw works, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at her.

“Does Leia know? Is this what she meant, about the decision you have to make?”

“The Resistance hasn’t come to a decision. Leia thinks I should make an excuse to try and buy more time until the vote’s in.”

Rey frowns. “You don’t think that’s a good idea.” It’s a statement, an observation. Everything about his body language seems on edge, as if he’s already made up his mind. 

A heavy exhale leaves his nose, as he rises from the bed. “You don’t know Snoke like I do. He’s not… he doesn’t accept excuses. If he’s telling me to come back, then I need to go back. Especially if I’m keeping this cover.”

“Sounds like your decision is already made.”

His head turns to the side, his gaze fixated upon a seemingly random spot on the wall. His jaw clenches and moves, his lips slightly parted as he closes his eyes, his head dropping as his hands linger momentarily on his hips. “It’s not that straight forward.”

“Why?” She turns her back to him, begins to move towards her dresser, to pull out clean clothes. Standing around in a towel won’t make this conversation any more comfortable. Besides, he’s already seen her naked.

“Why?” Ben echoes, the word coming out sarcastic and dry. “Why?! I’m putting my neck out on the fucking line here. I could go back, and Snoke could know I turned against him. I could try and come back here and be turned away. Where does that leave me? Alone. Done for. I would be dead before the sun even fucking set-”

“So, do it.” Rey cuts him off, the towel dropping to the floor as she yanks a clean pair of knickers on, followed by a tee shirt, not bothering with a bra. “Stick your neck out. Take a risk.”

His response is a roll of his eyes paired with a low growl of frustration. “I don’t think you get it-”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She whirls on him, finger outstretched and pointing accusingly at his chest. “Is this some game to you?! You went crying to Snoke because your parents didn’t give you enough attention, or- or because you decided it would be the perfect form of revenge?! But then Snoke turned out to be not what you needed either, so now you’re trying to make it right, but only if you have some guarantee clause worked in, huh?!”

His jaw is set, his neck nothing but chorded muscles of tension. He looks like he’s about to snap, about to break, but Rey’s only just begun.

“People are dying out there, Ben. Muggles, witches, wizards,  _ kids. _ They’re all caught in the crossfire, all of their lives are disrupted by what?! Because one man decided he wanted more power than the rest? That he thinks he deserves it!?” She laughs, the sound ringing bitter in her ears. “That’s a load of shit, and I refuse to believe that for even a damn second that you agreed with him.”

She turns, yanking open the door to her wardrobe and rifling aggressively for a pair of jeans. “So yeah, I think you should stick your neck out on the line. I think you should do what’s fucking right, consequences be damned, because you helping us could be what stops this war.”

The room is silent. Rey fiddles with the fly of her jeans, her fingers fumbling with the button. She knows he’s just waiting, just getting worked up. He’s going to say something, going to fire back with a smart ass remark. Her blood is boiling, adrenaline courses through her veins, and when she finally turns, she’s surprised to see him just standing there, nodding his head.

“You’re right.” His voice is hoarse. Briefly, his eyes meet hers and then he leaves, the sound of his footsteps a steady, solemn beat against the floorboards. The door doesn’t even slam shut behind him. There’s no flourish as it is closed.

He walked away like a man accepting his fate for what it was, whether it included life or death.

Rey’s too stunned to go after him, to speak. She merely stands there, gaping at the space that he had occupied moments ago, wondering what the hell she’s just done.


	5. chapter five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation continues to effect Rey and Ben's actions. Rey tries to move forward and in some ways move on, yet her thoughts and actions continue to be dictated and consumed by the quiet Ravenclaw boy she once knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am continued to be blown away by the response i'm getting from this fic. not just for getting a comment, but the number of in-depth reactions you are taking the time to write down. i can't thank you enough. i hope you continue to enjoy reading this chapter as much as i did writing it.
> 
> thanks to kaybohls for the beta and the moodboard. love you, you hoe for poe.
> 
> EDIT: Tilvy11 was so sweet and kind, and made me a gorgeous moodboard that i've also added to this chapter. can you believe this is the first moodboard she's made, too?! <3 thank you again so much.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182242012@N03/49850245358/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182242012@N03/49860076707/in/dateposted-public/)

The fallout of Ben’s departure is imminent. Some members of the Resistance tried to use it as proof of a guilty conscience, that he had something to hide because he had run back to Snoke the moment the wizard had beckoned and called. 

Even less of them tried to be the voice of reason, or to point out the logic in the situation. That if Ben were to be a double agent and their spy, of course, he would need to return to his master. Of course, he would need to continue to play a part in the First Order if it was meant to succeed.

“What do you think?” Poe asks, turning towards her, his gaze and his words both direct.

She had slipped into the sitting room at the very last moment and stuck to standing in front of the bookshelves in the back, hoping that her presence would fly under the radar.

It was evident that her stealth abilities would need some work. Or maybe she should just stop showing up to meetings altogether. She could get reports from Finn, even perhaps Poe. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was playing an all too active part. Ben had been right. She had been a glorified babysitter from the start, had acted more like a house elf, tidying up after the meetings and cleaning out the unused rooms.

And all for what?

_ For him _ , but Rey was quick to shun the thought. She didn’t want to think about him, about their argument, about all the things she had said. He was gone and it was entirely her fault. She had pushed him away, had told him to go running straight into the lion’s den. 

She had told him that his death would be justified, worth the win of the war.

In return, she hasn’t slept well since he left. She tosses and turns, dreams of the woods and walnuts falling, of his mouth on her neck and his cock between her legs haunting her mind. But they always end the same, of his body lowering to the ground of somewhere cold and dark, before Ben fades away, disappearing underneath her fingertips until Rey is left, lost and alone.

“Me?” Rey’s already shaking her head, her arms folding across her chest as she drops her gaze to the ground. “I don’t- I already told Leia that I don’t know anything.”

“But you have to know something.” Poe presses on, and she can feel his burning gaze, insistent and intrusive. “If Ren would have told anyone something, it would have been you.”

“And he didn’t tell me a blood thing, alright?!” Rey bites back. “I didn’t even know he was leaving.”

“Poe, sit down.” Leia barks, though the usually sharpness is vacant from her words. Instead her voice sounds tired and worn. “Rey already told us what she knows. Now-” Their fearless leader jumps straight into discussions of the next step; places that they need to keep watch over, assigning missions to different members and Ministry officials that they think might be in Snoke’s pocket.

Not once does Leia mention the names Ben Solo or Kylo Ren. It’s as if he’s out of sight and thus out of mind, and to be honest, Rey’s not sure if it makes her feel relieved or angry or just sick. Perhaps a combination of all three.

Still, there are the glances, the curious and tentative looks her way. She feels like eyes are always watching her like she’s a pretty moving painting on display. The Fat Lady that served as the entrance to the Gryffindor common room might have thrived off of the audience, but it curdled Rey’s mood, making her feel sour and on edge.

She ducks out of the meeting early, before Poe can corner her and question her again, or someone else can make some comment about Ben.

Ben. Kylo. Rey doesn’t even know what to call him anymore, has long ago become uncertain of where one ended, and the other began.

Seeking solace in the kitchen, she grabs a bottle of Blishen’s Firewhisky from the liquor cabinet, the faded label boasting bold claims of being ‘the King of Whiskies!’. Royalty or not, Rey twists off the cap and makes a beeline for the deck, not even bothering with a glass.

She takes one swig then two, ignoring the burn down her throat. 

“Never took you for a Firewhisky type.” Rey doesn’t turn at the sound of Professor Skywalker’s voice. The older man hasn’t talked to her for a couple of weeks, let alone looked her way. In fact, his presence had been scarce around Grimmauld Place. Rey hadn’t even seen him in the meeting.

She shrugs her shoulders, as if to say ‘it’s all I’ve got’ but takes another drink, not trusting herself to speak.

Luke stands behind her, his presence hovering over her shoulder, the same way he would during exams when he patrolled the room, eyes peeled for Auto-Answer quills or notes written in invisible ink on seemingly bare scraps of parchment.

But he’s not her teacher anymore, and Rey isn’t getting graded on an exam.

“Did you have something to say to me?” She snaps, her eyes narrowing as she looks out into the garden. The garden that she and Ben had landscaped, trimming back the shrubs, pulling weeds and banishing garden gnomes, spinning the small nuisances from their ankles and then launching them into the air. Of course, they had turned it into a game, both Rey and Ben taking a competitive edge to the task. She had won, had worn a smug, victorious smile on her face until her cheeks began to ache. But it had been worth it, to see the way he shook his head at her as if she was childish and ridiculous, to see that twitch of a smirk on his lips, that faint twinkle in his eye.

Rey takes another swig.

An unsettled silence stretches between them. The kind of quiet that always comes before chaos— the calm before the storm. Luke scoffs, and Rey hears the sound of his retreating footsteps as if he’s changed his mind, as if he’s just decided to wash his hands of the situation, of Rey herself.

But as Rey stands, as she turns to face him, Luke is striding towards her once more.

“I expected more from you.”

The words sting more than they should. Waves of guilt begin to rock in her stomach, building up momentum despite how much she tries to push them back.

“More?” Rey chokes out the word, eyebrows raised.

“He snapped his fingers, and you went running off to the dark side and for what? A pair of pretty eyes.”

“The  _ dark side _ ?!” She shakes her head, her fingers trembling as her grip tights around the neck of the bottle. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me-”

“He was toying with you!” Luke shouts, throwing his hands up in frustration. “He was using you, has been since day one. He’s trained in Occulemancy.  _ I  _ trained him myself, back during Hogwarts. It was a way to try and block Snoke out of his head. It failed then, but Ben was proficient enough, even back then he would have known how to work around the Veritaserum.”

The information was coming too fast, each word being hurled at her in quick succession, leaving too much for her brain to try and keep up. Occlumency. Did Ben knoww how to close his mind? Knew how to evade the attack of Legilimency, knew how to work around truth serums…

No. No. No.

“But Leia-”

“Leia knew the risks. She knew it wasn’t a foolproof plan, but the moment  _ he _ showed up again, her vision got swayed. The longer he stayed, the more rose tinted her glasses became. She was willing to believe what she wanted, no matter how diplomatic her exterior seemed.”

Her entire body is quivering now. The pent up anger runs through her veins, seeking an outlet yet finding nothing as Rey tries to hold it all in.

Of course, Rey knew that Veritaserum wasn’t reliable. Nothing, even in the wizarding world, was. But Occlumency? That would have meant Ben had been in control the entire time, that he had been feeding everyone the answers they wanted to hear, the ones that gave him the best chance at gaining their confidence, their trust.

And what had she done? Her first instinct had been to run straight into his arms, into his bed…

The bottle drops to the deck but merely bounces off the wooden planks before beginning to roll. Truth serum wasn’t guaranteed, but at least there was the dependable Firewhiskey bottle, fabricated from enchanted, unbreakable glass.

Rey stumbles over the bushes, leans over, and empties the contents of her stomach all over the hedges, much to the muffled complaints of a stray garden gnome, one that they must have missed or had been smart enough to find it’s way back.

Her stomach contracts, and she begins to dry heave even after her belly is left empty, and her heart feels hollow. Tears sting at her eyes, and frantically she wipes them away. It’s bad enough Luke is seeing her vomit, let alone if she were to cry.

“I’m sorry-”

“ _ Stop _ .” The word comes out scratchy and hoarse. Her throat feels raw; her entire mouth feels fuzzy and dry. 

Luke seems to hesitate, to hover over her for one final moment before she hears the swish of his retreating cloak, the soft thud of the back door being shut.

Rey lasts another moment or two, just standing there, her hands on her knees, her body shaking and doubled over. Then it hits her, like a tidal wave: His voice, his answers echoing in her mind.

_ “Were you sent here by Snoke? To spy on us?” _

How stupid she had been. How blinded and naive.

_ “Okay?” _

_ “Yeah. Okay.” _

She remembers how he had been sitting on the chair in the basement, looking so isolated and alone. Like he had been stranded, stuck on an island with nothing but hungry sharks circling him.

_ “Once I saw her, I could not go through with it.” _

She had felt pity for him, had wanted nothing more than to reach out a hand, to feel his fingers brush against hers. Because she had been there for him. She had been there so he didn’t have to go through it alone. She had been there because…

_ “Because I love her.” _

Her legs give out. Her body folds in on itself as she collapses to the damp grass below. A strangled cry slips from her lips, and there’s no holding back the pain any longer. Of course, it had all been a ploy, a plot. He had gotten inside of her mind, had known exactly what to do, what to say. He had succeeded in his mission, had done his task and Rey… 

Rey had thrown her duty to the wayside, abandoned her position as an auror, given up her career, her  _ life, _ everything that she had worked towards since the moment the Sorting Hat had been placed upon her head.

Everyone had always whispered about Slytherin— how it produced more dark witches and wizards than any other house. How they were nothing but blood purist bigots who craved power. That no one who came out of that house could achieve greatness without blood on their hands.

She had wanted to prove them wrong. To show how strong it was to be cunning, how ambition was another word for hard work. That she would one day be an auror who would be locking evil away in Azkaban, and would be saving lives instead of worried about selfpreservation.

Rey was going to change the tune.

Rain begins to fall, the droplets fat and steady as they begin to wet her clothes, her hair, her skin. On shaking legs, Rey starts to rise.

She was going to rewrite the song.

But there was one thing she would keep, one dark whisper that would ring true. There would be blood on her hands.

His.

***

Going back to the Ministry isn’t an option right now.

“You've been gone too long,” Leia tells her. “Everyone’s assumed you are missing in action, possibly even dead. If you were to just waltz back into the Ministry-”

“I need to do something.” Rey insists. “I can’t stay locked in here. I can’t just keep cleaning out old trunks and wiping away cobwebs. I don’t have a purpose anymore now that-”

The older witch cuts her off, and for that, Rey would be grateful. “We’ll think of something. We’ll come up with a plan.”

That plan turns into a new identity.

Rey Niima might be presumed to be a sad casualty of war, but Kira Kenobi is just getting started.

“Kenobi?” She reads over the new name on her identity card. “Kenobi. That sounds familiar.”

“He was an old headmaster.” Finn answers. He had been the one to doctor the documents, bewitching the card until it looked just right. “He was a professor during Luke and Leia’s time at Hogwarts became headmaster during their third year.”

Rey remembers the portraits hanging in Leia’s office. One was of a man with long hair pulled halfway back, and soft, kind eyes. Another of a smaller wizard, his ears pointed and his bald head covered with white wisps. And a third portrait, one of a middle aged man with a reddish tint to his beard and a furrowed brow. 

Looking at her picture beside a new name gives her a strange mix of emotions. It’s just a name, one that is common enough in the wizarding world that no one is going to question who she is, where she came from. But still, it feels like she’s nothing but a phony, a fraud— an orphan attaching herself to a well known magical name, pretending that she belongs somewhere where she has no business being.

_ It’s just a cover _ , Rey reminds herself. I _ t’s temporary, a precaution. Just until the war’s over. _

Besides, this is the only way she’s going to get let out of Grimmauld Place.

She cuts her hair and uses her wand to trim the ends until they hang around her chin.

“You know they’re going to enchant your appearance, right?” Poe reminds her, his eyes darting between her face and her freshly chopped hair. Polyjuice potion was out of the question. It took too long to brew, and then there was the matter of figuring out whose appearance she would assume.

“I know,” Rey answers, self consciously moving to rake her fingers along her scalp. “I just- I thought this might help. Sometimes the muggle’s have good ideas-”

Poe answers with a shrug before they both turn their attention to the meeting.

What Rey doesn’t say is how she wanted a fresh start. How with every lock that fell, she felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders, felt like one more step away from him. Long gone was the foolish girl that let some childhood crush get in the way of what was important, of what mattered.

_ Turn to the darkside and for what? A pair of pretty eyes… _

No. Rey wasn’t going to be that girl anymore.

***

Her first mission goes smoothly, as does her second and third. It’s similar work to what she had been doing with the Ministry, keeping watch over suspected First Order members, jotting down notes and tabs of their locations, where they traveled, and to who they talked.

She crosses wands with more than one First Order soldier, and ends up entering combat on her fourth and fifth missions, as she’s given more complicated tasks. She comes away from it with a few scratches and bruises, but is able to disapparate before things can take a turn for the worse. 

For so long, Rey had kept locked away, hidden from the reality of the war. But now she was facing it head-on. It was scary to think that her life could end with a burst of green, that each mission she went on could be her last. But it’s exhilarating too. There’s a burst of excitement, a rush of adrenaline that she gets every time she’s dueling with an enemy in a mask.

Yet, despite the new name, the fresh start, Rey can’t help the way her eyes rake over each First Order member, looking for a flash of broad shoulders or a mop of shaggy dark hair. She knows she would recognize him, even behind a mask. Part of her wants their paths to cross and meet on the battleground. She wants to face him, to fight him, to show that he has left no scar upon her.

At least not any scar visible to the human eye. 

Every time she thinks she sees him, it ends up being a false alarm. Either they’re too short, or their fingers too slim, or their teeth are perfectly pearly and straight. There’s always something off, some trait that doesn’t belong to him.

That doesn’t stop Rey from looking.

Rumor was that the werewolves were joining forces with Snoke — and now he had turned his sights to the giants. Leia puts together a group that she christens Rogue One. She wants them to try and get close to the giants, to try and figure out what Snoke’s planning to offer them, and if there is anything they could use to sway the alliance in their favor. 

Of course, the journey there hadn’t been easy. Most of the giants had fled Britain, preferring a more isolated area where they could live in peace. 

_ “Wizards and giants have never gotten along that well. There’s always been tension, a distrust between the two communities,” Luke had told her once, back in third year when she had been working on her homework in his office. _

_ “But why?” She had pressed, earnest to learn, her quill at the ready, the tip pressed against the yellowed parchment. _

_ “There have been times in history,” Her professor had begun to explain, his words carefully chosen. “When the wizarding community had not been kind to the giants. And there were times when the giants had not been kind to us. Lives were lost on both sides, blood on the hands of everyone involved. Eventually-” He had paused, shifting in his chair. “Eventually, the giants thought it was best to find somewhere else to live.” _

Turns out, that place was tucked into the mountains in the remote countryside northeast of Minsk. 

“Giants like gifts,” Jannah, a new Resistance recruit, comments. Rey likes Jannah, she’s straight and gets right to the point, while still being able to take a joke. 

Finn lifts a pair of brass omnioculars to his eyes, surveying the ground beneath them, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary and make sure the coast was clear. “What the hell do you give a giant?” 

Rey packs her knapsack, where the gifts themselves had been shrunk and concealed. “Nothing easy to come by, unfortunately.” It had been perhaps the most nerve wracking part of the whole journey, making sure the gifts didn’t get lost or stolen along the way. If there weren’t any gifts, then there was no mission, no chance of persuading the giants to join their side.

It didn’t help that they had to travel the muggle way. A train from London to Brussels, then from Brussels to Germany. From that point on, they had made their way through Berlin and across the border into Poland, moving on foot as much as possible, only taking a bus when necessary. 

It was slow-moving, and Rey could only be thankful that Finn and Jannah were also muggleborns. Her fingers itched for a broomstick, even that old Cleansweep she had used during her Quidditch days. At least that would lift her off of her feet and get them there faster. 

But they were almost there. Belarus was just on the other side of the Bialowieza forest. They just had to make it through there. Then they would be in the homestretch.

The forest was lush and dense. Hoards of bison ran wild and free, their thick bodies moving between the thicket of brush and trees with surprising ease. Birds sang from up above, calling to one another each with theirdistinct song, and at night the sound of wolves could be howling, calling out to their pack.

If Rey had been here for any other reason, if she hadn’t had an even harder mission awaiting her on the other side, maybe she could have enjoyed it more, could have appreciated the forest in all of its beauty.

After their feet began to ache and their legs couldn’t possibly move anymore, Finn and Jannah voted on setting up camp for the night.  The sun was just beginning to set and with the number of fallen trees and exposed roots, continuing on seemed like a bad idea . Still, Rey couldn’t help but feel frustrated by how much time they were wasting by crossing the border on foot. If they could just apparate…

But Leia forbade it. They were to keep a low profile, to act like muggles on backpacking trip. Poor university kids taking the summer off to explore Europe -- that was their cover story if anyone asked. Wands concealed and magic only used under dire situations.

Working behind the ministry’s back was one thing, but this? Crossing borders, invading other countries with forged identification…it was another level of lawbreaking -- another risk that they were taking.

So, they find a clearing and set up camp. It’s a warm, balmy night even once the sun goes down. They set up the tent with relative ease, which is a significant departure from their first night sleeping out under the stars. Sleeping bags get rolled out, pieces of dried fruit and jerky shared as dinner, and then they turn in, too exhausted from walking so far to stay up and do anything else. They don’t even bother to change anymore, merely lying on top of their sleeping bags wearing the same clothes that have adorned their bodies for three days straight. The sun has just set, but soon it will be rising again, meaning another day of traipsing through the woods, of getting closer and closer to the giant’s camp.

Finn snores. Jannah talks in her sleep. Rey tosses and turns, unable to close her eyes without seeing him.

Some nights she stares up at the canvas roof of their tent and wonders where he is, what he’s doing. Perhaps nothing. Maybe his body is cold, and life has left his eyes, his corpse incinerated or carelessly dumped for someone else to find.

No. She quickly shakes that thought away. If Ben was dead, she would know, would feel it. She can’t explain it, can’t give it a name. But she knows the moment air would leave his lungs, the moment his heart stopped beating — she would know.

He has a part of her, a part that she’ll never be able to get back, and she knows with his demise, that piece will die too.

Wherever he is, whether he’s prisoner or free, Rey knows he’s at the very least alive. And it’s with that small, bitter comfort that she’s able to roll over onto her side, squeeze her eyes shut and eventually find sleep.

***

They wake to chaos.

The sound of something strong and powerful drumming against the earth rouses from their sleep. It’s still dark in the tent, dark outside. Rey feels as if she’s just closed her eyes when she’s sitting abrupt, awake and alert, despite the last dregs of sleep that cloud her mind. She’s moving along with Finn and Jannah, all three scrambling.

Finally, Jannah is the one to lift her wand, to shout  _ diffindo _ , and the canvas of the tent rips at the seams, tattering away to lay at useless shreds on the ground around them. But with it gone, they’re able to rise to their feet, their eyes trying to adjust in the dark rapidly, but not fast enough.

Finn thinks of it first. “Lumos.” He murmurs, and light erupts from the tip of his wand. It’s not a lot, but enough that they can now blink into the dark forest and begin to see.

And what a terrifying, unexpected sight it is.

A stampede of bison is trampling towards them, knocking any and everything clear of their path. For a moment, all they can do is stare, frozen and utterly incapacitated. Then Rey realizes that the hides of the animal aren’t just dark brown. No, there's something else mixed in there. She spots a tusk, a humped back covered in a thick, grayish-purple skin.

“Graphorn!” Rey yells.

Finn and Jannah turn, begin to run, trying to put distance between them and the pack. Wild bison was one thing to deal with, but graphorns? The animals were vicious, their hide as tough and impenetrable as a dragon’s scales, and they were known for their aggression.

Rey should be running too, should be fleeing with her teammates. But they’re nothing without the gifts.

She darts forward, towards where their tent had stood, erect and sturdy just seconds ago. She spots it, the brown leather knapsack sticking out beneath some of the sleeping bags and strips of canvas that had once been their tent.

Her arms are pumping; she’s pushing her legs to move as quickly as she can. Keeping her eyes fixated on the target, Rey can hear the pounding of hooves hitting the ground, the noise thunderous — deafening as it grows closer. But she needs this bag. Everything depends upon it.

Reaching out with her fingers brush against the leather strap, curling around the material and then — 

There’s a loud crack, like a backfiring car. She feels a pair of arms encircling her, drawing her in. All Rey can do is scream as everything goes back. 

Her body feels as if it's being pushed and pulled in every direction, her eyeballs feel shoved into the back of her skull. Claustrophobia sets in as the sensation of thick iron bands bind across her chest — crushing and squeezing her more and with every passing second.

She’s still screaming as she reappears, still in the forest but far away from the stampede, from Finn and Jannah.

Fingers close around her lips, as someone begins to hiss an agitated ‘shh’. Even without words, she recognizes the voice in an instant.

Rey opens her mouth and bites down hard on the hand covering her mouth. The flesh tastes like salt and grime on her tongue, mixed with the faint metallic taste of blood. A voice cries out, and Rey’s shoved forward. She falls, landing on her hands and knees. Then she’s scrambling back to her feet, ignoring the way her stomach lurches, the way her legs shake.

She turns, and there he stands, muttering obscenities beneath his breath as he shakes out his injured fingers.

Ben Solo.  _ Kylo Ren _ .

When her eyes land on his face, she’s instantly looking for her wand, scrambling to pull it from the pocket of her jeans. 

Once more, his reflexes are quicker. In the time it has taken her to draw her wand, he’s crossed the clearing. The same moment she holds her wand out with a shaking hand, he’s standing in front of her, arms raised and hands held up in surrender.

Yet again, their paths have crossed in a forest at night. Except, this time, he’s made the mistake of not drawing his wand and stunning her the moment he could.

He’s still counting on the soft spot she has for him. He’s counting on her to ask questions first, to find out where he’s been, why he’s here. He’s counting on her to be Rey Niima, the little third year who he saved from walnuts and rain.

But she’s not that girl anymore.

“ _ Stupefy _ !” She’s moving now, trying to put as much distance between herself and him, all while avoiding overturned logs, exposed roots, and thick patches of vegetation. It’s dark, the forest trees are lush, allowing very little light in, in terms of moonlight from the stars above. Magic isn’t an option. Rey can either use  _ lumos  _ or defend herself, and she’s sticking with the latter.

He’s moving too, trying to keep up with her. But Rey’s smaller size is an advantage. She tries to slip between close together trees, tries to aim behind her, knocking over trees and boulders, shouting  _ stupefy _ ,  _ petrificus totalus _ , anything she can think of to slow him down.

But nothing seems to stop him. He’s countering every one of her attacks, disapparating with a loud crack, only to reappear with the same sound, closer than he was before. He’s gaining on her. There is no doubt in her mind — Ben’s going to catch up.

“ _ Protego Diabolica! _ ” Rey skids to a stop, turning on her heel as she shouts the spell. Angling her wand downwards, she slowly spins as icy blue flames shoot out the tip, surrounding herself in a ring of fire.

Ben comes to an abrupt stop, the soles of his boots digging into the damp, mossy earth. He looks between Rey and the flames, lips parted, and his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. The fire suddenly provided the much sought after light. It casts an eerie glow over his features, but she can see the way his eyes keep darting, can picture the wheels of his mind spinning, thinking, trying to place the spell.

It’s dark magic. Something that Rey had only read about in books that she had found in Grimmauld Place, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the attic. Old textbooks, with notes written in the margins, almost like commentary and suggestions. hough, in the back was where papers had been tucked away — yellowed and brittle with age. The ink was faded, but still legible. 

There, tucked away in that book, was where Rey had found spells that would never be on a N.E.W.T. exam. Spells mentioned so briefly in during the Defense Against the Dark Arts during your seventh year, that oftentimes you didn’t realize they had been discussed at all.

Even in Auror training, their names were mentioned, yet never taught. After all, it was dark magic. No one dared to go near it, too afraid that it would somehow corrupt their minds. That, one spell cast would be throwing their lot in with the likes of Snoke.

But Rey would rather be damned than to let Ben Solo win, to allow him to have the upper hand over her again.

She realizes the moment that it dawns on him what the spell is. Suddenly, Ben seems to have regained his composure, as his lips press together and he begins to slowly walk back and forth, pacing like an animal trapped in a cage. Rey’s already realized the downside of the spell. She’s protected, but she’s stuck. She can’t move, can’t disapparate, or even flee on foot.

Ben can’t get in. He can’t pass the flames. No one can unless they’re her true ally. But it also means she can’t get out. Not without breaking the spell and starting back to square one — shooting spells blindly at one another as they run through the woods.

Rey can only hope that Finn and Jannah are nearby, but even that is a feeble thought. She doesn’t know how far Ben disapperated them. The forest is huge, over a thousand square miles. They could be anywhere.

No. Rey can’t count on her team members right now. Once again, it’s just her and him.

“You’ve been reading my grandfather’s books,” Ben states, as they stare one another down, neither one willing to be the first to look away.

She doesn’t answer him, can’t bring herself to speak. Looking at him is hard enough. Being this close to him, with nothing but a wall of fire separating herself from him… it's all too much. All she can see is the pale expanse of his back, the way he had tasted on her tongue, the way his lips hard parted, and how his face had contorted when he came. Every moment, every memory flashes before her mind, making her stomach lurch and her head spin.

Rey pushes it all down. She can’t think about those moments now. She can’t associate the man who now stood before her as the same one who had been in that bed.

“Look,” Ben steps forward and the flames jump higher, lashing out as if they know an enemy is near. The action doesn’t deter him. He stands firmly before her, his gaze locked with hers. “You need to listen to me, Rey. We don’t have a lot of time-”

“We?” She uses her wand to motion between herself and Ben. “We have nothing, but you’re right. It’s only a matter of time until Finn and Jannah-”

He growls, and she hates the way the sound sends a shiver down her spine, hates how it reminds of her other noises he had made, ones she had coaxed out of him with the grind of her hips and a stroke of her tongue.

“They’re not going to find you. If they’re smart, they would have disapperated the fuck out of here.”

“They wouldn’t just abandon me-” Rey shakes her head, her mind trying to keep up and connect the dots, trying to read between the lines of his word. No, she can’t listen to him. He’s just trying to mess with her, to play mind games again. She lifts her wand with assertion, the tip aimed at the center of his chest. “Stop it. Stop talking. I’m not falling for your lies again.”

He’s glancing over one shoulder and the other before turning back towards Rey. Once again he steps towards the flames. The tips of the blue fire reach out, lapping at the air as if they can taste his scent, as if they’re hungry for him, yet it doesn’t seem to discourage Ben like it had before.

“Stay back!” Rey yells.

“We don’t have  _ time _ for this, for fucks sake-” Then he’s lunging forward, making to walk through the fire.

She screams, forshe knows what the flames are going to do, how they’re going to engulf him and devour him whole. She’s going to be forced to watch his body burn to a crisp, rendered down to nothing but black ash that will float away on the wind.

As much as she hates him, as much as she despises him for everything that he’s done, she’s not ready to lose him. Rey isn’t ready to say goodbye.

Except — 

Instead of being engulfed by the flames, he passes through without a single mark left behind on his porcelain skin, not one stitch of his clothing charred.

He got through.

“But that’s impossible,” Rey whispers, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. “That can’t be- Not unless...unless..”

_ Only those who mean the caster no harm, only those who are undoubtedly loyal to the witch or wizard that cast the spell can cross through the flames unscathed. _

He’s looking down at her, panting slightly as some of the tension begins to release from the corded muscles of his neck, his back, his shoulders.

“Are you willing to listen to me now?” Ben states, his voice gentler than before.

All Rey can muster is a mute nod. He passed through the flames. He made it to the other side, unharmed. 

_ Loyal. _

_ Mean no harm. _

It seemed that they had much to discuss.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/shuhannon)


	6. chapter six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here Ben?”
> 
> His fingers stutter over the handle of the pot at the sound of his name. It fell from her lips with such ease, as easily as it had when they had been a tangle of bare limbs in his bed back at Grimmauld Place.
> 
> “I told you.” He clears his throat, still bustling around, adjusting the pot over the flames before he stokes at the flame—busy work—something to keep his hands active, and his gaze away from hers.
> 
> “You didn’t. You just said you don’t want Snoke to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's chapter six! i have a tentative chapter count figured out but it still might change. i have the rest of the story all plotted/figured out, but i also have a tendency to write more than i anticipate. 
> 
> thank you once again for all the sweet comments and kudos. i really appreciate all of them, and i always love to read everyone's reactions.
> 
> thanks again to the lovely kaybohls for the beta. <3

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/182242012@N03/49928270587/in/dateposted-public/)

Rey refuses to apparate with him. Watching him pass through the fire was one thing, but to take his hand—to be so open and trusting with him—she can’t do it.

He’s annoyed by her refusal, his frustration evident in the way he works his jaw and fixates his steely gaze on a nearby tree trunk rather than anywhere near Rey.

The flames disappeared, and for a few moments they stood in the heart of the forest, engulfed in darkness. She didn’t offer to summon light, and he made no move to grab his wand. So, they stood at a stalemate, neither party willing to give into the other.

“Why can’t you just tell me-” Rey begins to try again, exasperation etched into her voice.

“I told you, I can’t.” It’s the same, gruff excuse he’s been providing, which does nothing to answer her question. “We need to  _ move _ , need to get somewhere safe before they-”

“Who!?” Rey presses on, but then he just answers her with a growl, and she knows they’ve once again circled back to square one.

So, she walks..

“Where are you going!?” Ben hisses at her through the dark, and she can feel the fire in his gaze, burning a hole into her retreating figure.

“I’m not apparating with you. You don’t want to tell me what’s going on. We’re getting nowhere and I’m not going to just stand in the middle of the fucking forest for the rest of the night. I need to get back to my team-”

“They’re too far away.”

She whips around, and a twig cracks beneath her foot. “How do you know?”

“I apparated us here. When I found you, you were up towards the northern part of Poland, about a day or two from the border. We’re at the southern end now.”

A day or two from the border? They had been so close. They only had to get across the border, slip into the northern part of Belarus, and onto the final stretch of their journey—the very last leg before they would reach the giant encampment. 

And now...now the mission was compromised, the team fractured and separated, and the backpack…

_ Shit, her backpack! _

“ _ Lumos _ .” A soft glow erupts from the tip of her wand, and Rey holds it out, casting the light over the ground, her eyes scanning and searching. She had been reaching for the backpack when Ben had, in turn, grabbed her. She felt the strap in her fingertips. She had a hold of it. It had to have made the jump with her. If that rucksack had gotten bloody splinched…

“What the fuck!?” He’s rushing towards her, reaching out to try and cover the light on the end of her wand with his hand. “You’re going to give us away. Do you want us to get caught?!”

“Me? No.” Rey jerks her wand out of his grasp, pushing past him, her free hand making contact with his shoulder as she gives him a sharp shove. “You? That’s still up for debate.”

He growls again. “Can you stop that?!” Rey whips her head around, serving him with a withering glare, not that it matters much in the dark. “I can’t focus when you-”

“When I what?!”

Now it’s her turn to groan in frustration. Her fingertips burn from where she had touched him, and Rey gives her hand a shake. She needs to get her shit together, needs to focus.

“I was getting a backpack.” Rey changes the topic. “I had just grabbing a hold of it when you tackled me. I need to find it. The whole mission, the fucking war—I just—I  _ need _ to find that backpack.”

Rey expects him to argue with her, to tell her to forget it and that they need to get a move on. But to her surprise, he doesn’t say a word. Glancing over her shoulder, Rey can make out the outline of his form, hunched over, looking at the ground.

He’s helping her, s realizes. For a moment, all she can do is blink and stare. He must feel her gaze, because soon he’s looking right back at her, his brow slightly raised in question.

She turns back to the search, ignoring the flush of her cheeks, a tries to focus once more on locating the knapsack. Scanning the ground, she sees a piece of brown amongst all the lush green. She surges forward, quickly grasping hold of it, pulls it from the ground and…

“I got it!” It’s the bag. Covered in some dirt and fallen leaves, but still what she had been looking for. Rey quickly checks its contents, and only once she sees that everything is in its proper place does she retie the flap and toss the bag over her shoulder.

“Will you come with me now?” Ben asks, standing a few steps from her, his hand outstretched. Once more she hesitates.  _ Do you trust me _ , his eyes say, but she can’t help but to eye his offered hand with apprehension.

Despite her brain yelling for her to flee, to turn around, keep walking, and never to look bac—Rey still hears the way she screamed as he walked through the flames. The memory echos in her mind. The worry she felt was fresh in her mind. Her fear that something irreversible—something that even magic couldn’t undo—would occur still lingered in her heart.

“Fine,” The word comes out like a resignation rather than a choice. There’s more venom in her voice than what she truly feels, because the last thing she wants is for Ben to think he has the upper hand—that he’s going to pull one over on her yet again.

Rey can’t deny the warmth that radiates through his sleeve as her fingers curl around his forearm. Her other hand grips the knapsack, knuckles pale as she tightens her hold. She can’t lose it, she can’t let this mission fail, no matter what hiccups had risen along the way.

There’s a familiar tug in her stomach, a loud crack, and then it’s nothing but darkness. Her body is once more shoved into that metaphorically tiny box, pressed and pushed into she’s feeling pressure at all angles—-impossibly compressed and small. 

The sensation is intense, but only lasts for a moment before she’s landing on wobbling legs. Her hand is still clenched tightly around his arm, as if he is the anchor that’s holding her in place, her one light to guide her through the storm.

“You okay?” He asks in that familiar low rumble, and she instantly jumps back, both craving and hating the new distance between them .

“I’m fine.” Rey mumbles as she looks around and her eyes adjust to the darkness. They’re at the base of the moment, standing at the mouth of a small cave. It’s hard to tell where they are, and she sees nothing but forest around them. The rocks and trees look similar to what they left behind, though the sparse foliage tells her they definitely went  _ somewhere _ .

She can’t tell if they had traveled a few feet or many miles, if they’re still in Poland, or halfway across the world. The feeling makes her feel uneasy. Guilt gnaws in the back of her mind, knowing that Finn and Jannah are still out there and might be risking their covers, and their lives to try and find her.

Rey can’t dwell on that right now. No, she has to keep moving, she has to keep pressing forward, and—right now—it seems that her success is lying on the shoulders of Ben Solo. 

He leads the way, turning to head into the cave and she begins to follow. Stowed away against the stony wall are a few canvas bags, all varying in shape and size, while the remnants of a fire lie in the center of the floor. Withdrawing a muggle lighter from his pocket, Ben fiddles with it and the kindling until he’s coaxed a large enough fire to provide them with light and warmth.

Silently he sets to work, unpacking a few pieces of aluminum cookware, all of which appear to have seen better days. Packets of food are next, and he’s tearing the crinkly bags open with his teeth, discarding the trash carelessly to the floor of the cave. She stands there, frozen and uncertain. Should she go? Take off running and hope she can find her way back to Finn and Jannah? Or, should she give him the benefit of the doubt, give him a chance to explain.

Once again Rey has found herself stuck, as if straddling a line.

He makes the decision easy for her, tossing a water bottle at her as he jerks his head towards a rumpled sleeping bag in the corner. “Sit.”

His command causes irritation to prickle at the base of her neck. She won’t pretend that she’s not parched, and dehydration is hardly going to influence the situation one way or another. Slowly she untwists the cap off of the bottle and raises it to her lips. She drinks for a long time. The water isn’t ice cold, but it still feels good, and does the job to quench her thirst.

It’s buying her some time, giving her a chance to figure out exactly what she wants to say. In the end, curiosity beats out any sense of duty or her mission. 

“You’re not using magic,” she blurts out, waving a hand where Ben has rigged a pot above the crackling flames. “We could be eating by now. Here-” She reaches for her wand, and her fingers barely curl around it when he’s standing before her. He rests his hand gently on her arm, stalling her motions.

“Snoke’s able to track magic. Don’t ask me how. He’s got this thing, this dark magic relic that he calls a wayfinder.” Ben’s back at the fire again, crouching down to stir the contents of the large pot. “It works better if he has a piece of you, strand of your hair, or a drop of your blood. Polyjuice potion type shit. But, with it, he can pick up on magic in remote areas more easily.”

“And you don’t want Snoke to find you?”

“No,” He shakes his head, his eyes darting towards her. “I don’t want Snoke to find  _ you _ .”

They both fall silent, with only the noise of the crackling fire and the distant hum of the forest outside filling the air. Finally, the urge to sit outweighs her stubbornness to ignore his order, and she lowers herself onto the sleeping bag, tucking her feet beneath her, as she sets the water bottle on the ground beside her.

Her gaze turns to him, raking over every inch of his form, from the way his hair seems longer now, the thick tressels curling at the ends as they brush against the top of his shoulders, to the way the long sleeve henley still stretches across his broad back, though perhaps not as snugly as it once had. Even in the dim firelight, she can make out gaunt shadows beneath his eyes, and though he still seems too large for any space, let alone the cramped cave in which they currently reside, he seems thinner too. The hard lines of his face seem sharper, much like the point of a brand new blade.

_ He’s been out here for a while _ , she concludes. It’she only assumption that seems to tick all the boxes. It would explain the amount of supplies, and the way he seems to know how to cook the fire with precision despite the lack of magic to aid him. 

Rey curls her arms around her legs, bringing her chin to rest on top of her knees. Her eyes remain traced on him, taking in his movements as she tries to document every little change about his appearance in her mind.

It feels strange too, to have this distance between them, especially after weeks of only having one another for company at Grimmauld Place—-when they went from close companions to something else, something  _ more _ but hard to pinpoint and define. Friends seemed too weak of a term, whereas boyfriend or partner didn’t seem right either, the former feeling juvenile, as if they’re back at Hogwarts, making plans for weekends at Hogsmeade and holding hands as they stroll around the Great Lake.

As for the latter…partner implied an equal footing, a sense of comradery, a level of cooperation and an alliance. It would mean they were working together for a common goal.

Which could not be further from the truth. And yet… _ and yet _ …

_ Only those who mean to do you no harm can pass through the flame.  _

“What are you doing here Ben?”

His fingers stutter over the handle of the pot at the sound of his name. It fell from her lips with such ease, as easily as it had when they had been a tangle of bare limbs in his bed back at Grimmauld Place.

“I told you.” He clears his throat, still bustling around, adjusting the pot over the flames before he stokes at the flame—busy work—something to keep his hands active, and his gaze away from hers.

“You didn’t. You just said you don’t want Snoke to find me.”

A heavy breath exhales from his lips, and she can’t help but to take in the rigid line of his back, his shoulders taut with tension. He doesn’t answer and Rey doesn’t press, torn between curiosity, and not wanting to know. After all, he could be on a mission for Snoke—assigned to derail Rey’s own assignment. Or maybe it’s all a mute point. Maybe the giants have already sided with the First Order. Maybe they were too late, and were always going to be too late, setting out on a doomed mission from the start.

“Here.” A tin mug, it’s sides sporting a variety of dimples and bends, is held out in front of her face. She accepts it, glad for the warmth it radiates across her palms and down each of her fingers, restoring feeling into them once more. As her stomach lets out a low growl, Rey realizes just how hungry she is.

The meal leaves much to be desired in both appearance and taste, but it’s hot and it’s _ food _ . She burns her tongue in haste as she begins to shovel bite after bite in, even as she coughs and sputters when it burns on its way down her throat.

They both eat in silence, metal spoons scraping against the bottom and sides of the tin cups.  _ The food isn’t that bad _ , Rey realizes. She had eaten much worse for muggle school lunches, though after so many years of being spoiled on the feasts at Hogwarts, her palette has become much more refined than it once had been.

But food is food, and before long, she’s scraping up every last bite out of the mug—her belly feeling full and satisfied. In quiet unison they wash the mugs and cookware, the tasks feeling oddly domestic despite their unusual situation and surroundings. Before long, Rey is back on the unfurled sleeping bag, drawing half of the unzipped material over her shoulders, like a makeshift blanket. Ben takes longer to settle, but eventually he finds a seat on the floor of the cave a few feet to her right. He’s staring at the fire, but once again, Rey finds herself staring at him.

He must feel her gaze. He shifts, bending his knees, his chin brushing against them as he mirrors her earlier position. He looks younger that way, so much more like the boy she had once known.

Then again, she hadn’t known him. Not at Hogwarts, not even now. She had looked, had studied and stared at him, had learned everything she could from distant observation. Her ears had perked whenever his name had been brought up at Slytherin’s table in the Great Hall andher head had whipped around when she caught sight of a familiar gangly form down the corridor.

She didn’t know him. No, not really. And yet…

“I always looked for you. Back at school. I noticed you from the first time I stepped into the Great Hall. I was nervous, didn’t know what to expect. No one would tell us about the sorting ceremony, not even the kids with older brothers and sisters who had gone through it.” She continues to stare at him, her eyes fixated on his profile. There’s a shift of his jaw, a movement of his lips but no other response or acknowledgement. 

So, Rey carries on. “My stomach was in knots. I felt like I was going to be sick all over my new robes. Everything felt like a dream—from the moment I got my letter, to walking onto the platform at King’s Cross.” She remembers pinching the inside of her wrist repeatedly, constantly trying to prove that this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some wild figment of her imagination. By the time she had seen the castle, she had drawn blood.

“I kept looking everywhere, kept trying to take it all in. The amount of students, the way some of the teachers looked, the candles floating in the air, and the way the ceiling looked like the night’s sky.” Her tongue darts out, wetting her dry, cracked lips as she loops her arms around her legs, drawing them closer to her chest. “Then I saw you.”

His eyes flicker to hers.

“You were at the blue table. Or at least that's what I had called it. I didn’t know what the hell a Ravenclaw was. A little separate from the rest, off by yourself.  _ Alone _ . You were watching the ceremony, and you looked so—you looked serious. More serious than any kid I’d ever seen. You looked so cross, and I just remember my eyes landing on you. I just couldn’t look away, and then—”

A soft smile spreads over her lips, her body flushes with a feeling of fondness and warmth as she remembers. “You smiled at me. Not much. Hell, it wasn’t more than a twitch of your lips. I thought I was imagining it, because the next thing I knew, you were looking down at the table and running your fingers through your hair but it- it was enough. It was like you were letting me know that it was all going to be okay. I had felt so alone and-”

His expression hasn’t changed, still stoic while his posture is unyielding. “You weren’t alone.” Ben murmurs, and the rumble of his deep baritone sends an achingly familiar chill down her spine.

“No,” Rey shakes her head, a strand of hair falling from her braid to frame her face. “And neither were you.”

Something else crackles in the air. Something more than just the logs shifting or the flames lapping at the air. Something with them, something  _ within  _ them. He’s the first one to reach out, to extend his arm until his hand is hovering, midway between them. Her eyes dart to it, once again she licks her lips and then she’s mirroring the action, drawing her arm from the warmth and comfort of the sleeping bag.

Their hands meet, their fingers barely brush against each other, barely touch, yet it is somehow both way too much and not enough.

Her fingertips slide against his, moving along the length of the digits until they run over his palm, feeling the lines and grooves along his calloused skin. The sound of her heartbeat drums in her ears, and she inhales a sharp breath. 

His eyes remain locked with hers, neither of them willing to look away.

“What are you doing here, Ben?” Rey presses again.

This time, he answers.

Their hands are still touching, his fingertips brush against the top of her wrist. Somehow their bodies have become closer, drawn together bit by bit. 

“Snoke.” His voice sounds hoarse, as if it hasn’t been used in so long. “The double agent thing. I was supposed to keep an eye out for Resistance members, but I was under strict orders not to interfere. He wanted to make sure you reached the giants. He wanted to divert your attention, waste your time—”

His words trail off, but Rey understands what he’s saying, and is able to fill in the blanks. It’s not a son’s bond with his mother. Not entirely, at least. Once again an image of Ben flashes in her mind, of him seated in the basement of Grimmauld Place on that wooden chair, spilling secret upon secret. Even if he had been using Occulumancy, even if he had planned to fake the effects of Veritaserum the entire time, something inside told Rey to believe him now.

“The giants have already sided with the First Order. Snoke already has them in his pocket.” 

Ben nods, a strand of dark hair falling forward towards his eyes. Out of pure instinct, almost like a reflex, Rey reaches forward and tucks the lock back into place with her free hand. He comes up, catches her wrist in his grip just as her fingers had begun to descent, brushing against his cheek in the process.

“I know what you’re going to do.” Their sitting so much closer now, faces merely inches apart. “I know you want to go find your friends, to warn them to stay away, but you can’t.”

“I can’t let them walk into a trap—”

“You have to,” Ben argues, shaking his head. His grip is still firm on her wrist but Rey knows if she jerks away, if she provides any resistance, he would let go. “Leia knows.”

Her stomach gives a small lurch, her brow furrows in confusion. “Leia? What do you mean she knows?”

His grip relaxes, and before Rey knows it, both of his hands are cradling hers, shifting and twisting until each set of fingers has become entwined. It startles her how natural it feels, how easy of a gesture it is to hold someone’s hand—- _ his hand _ . She feels like a silly lovestruck teenager, like they’re back at Hogwarts, ready for a weekend in Hogsmeade Village. And for a moment, she can do nothing but dip her head, to drop her gaze to their laced fingers and stare.

“I reached out to her before I saw you in the woods. I don’t know what the fuck I thinking. I offered to be a double agent, but she turned me down. She told me if I wanted to help I would need to prove it, to come back once I had intel that could help with the war. Once I had that, I could try and reach out to her again.”

“That’s how you got into Grimmauld place.” Her eyes lift to his. “That was the one piece of the puzzle that didn’t make sense. How you could get in. But she had given you the address. She hadn’t trusted you, but she told you about the headquarters.”

Ben nods. “It was still being used very sporadically for meetings. She gets notified of every person that crosses that threshold, and I couldn’t tell anyone else about the location so—”

“So that’s why you took me there, after we met in the woods.”

“Yeah,” He’s nodding again, his head bobbing in a slow, rhythmic movement. “That’s why I took you there.”

For a moment all they can do is stare at one another, hands still connected as their faces hover so close and near. The pad of her thumb brushes over the back of his hand, moving back and forth in a soft, rhythmic manner that she’s not entirely sure if it’s more soothing her or him. 

“You can’t go after them.” Ben presses again, his grip tightening. “I know you want to because they’re your friends, but you have to trust me on this.”

He doesn’t offer up any other reasoning or information, most likely because none of it is good news, and would only fuel Rey’s desire to run wildly into the night in search of Finn and Jannah. So, instead, she just nods, hating the feeling of guilt that continues to gnaw at her stomach, and doing her best to push it aside.

Patience. That had been something discussed at great lengths during her auror training. She just needed to be patient. Finn and Jannah were both smart and capable. Perhaps, they had even turned around and had gone back for help…

“Your head is saying yes, but your face looks like you’re going to apparate the hell out of here the first chance you get.”

His voice startles her, drawing her out of her thoughts, and for a moment Rey can only stare at him. Was he… _ joking _ with her? Sure enough, there was the twitch of his lips, the sign of not  _ quite  _ a smile, because this  _ was  _ Ben Solo—-but it was something more than his ever-present, disapproving frown.

Blinking with realization that she is now just staring at his mouth, Rey quickly looks away. Her face grows warm, but her hands remain entwined with his. She feels comfortable touching him—a natural progression. The clear, next step in their… whatever  _ this  _ could be defined as.

“I trust you.” The words sound foreign and strange on her tongue, but Rey finds that they still ring true, because, when things boiled down to it—she did trust him. She trusted that he wasn’t going to off her in her sleep, and that he would have her back in a duel. 

Whatever else needs to be said remains unspoken. A silence settles over them, but it doesn’t feel awkward or odd. No, it washes Rey with a sense of ease as once again she finds herself staring at Ben, while he, in turn, looks right back. 

“Rey—” Ben leans forward, but she shakes her head. Words always seemed to just get in the way, to provide a cold, bracing dose of reality. They would have time to talk later, and maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, Rey had spent so many years wishing she could touch him, could run her fingers through his hair, and press her lips against his—he didn’t want to waste a moment more.

His gaze flickers from her eyes to her lips. She’s about to close the gap between them when instead, Ben beats her to the punch line. The kiss is soft, sweet, and surprisingly chaste, as if he’s testing the waters, but, just as every steady river leads to the rolling waves of the sea, her mouth parts and his tongue surges forward, lapping at her, drinking her up.

Their hands untangle and her fingers begin to wander. She presses her palm flat against his chest, enjoying the rhythmic beat of his heart that she feels beneath the layers of cloth, skin, and muscle. 

His hands encircle her wrists, trying to pull her along as he rises to his feet but Rey resists, tugging free from his grasp. The kiss breaks, as Ben now stands before her, while Rey remains on her knees, the sleeping bag providing little barrier between herself and the cold, hard floor of the cave.

Bruised knees, however, are a consequence she is willing to accept for what she’s about to do.

With hooded eyes, she lifts her chin to look up at him. The warm glow of the firelight flickers across the hard lines of his features, casting enough light that she can make out the slope of his nose, the wide, set curve of his lips, and the heat that burns in his eyes. He’s watching her, and without looking away, her fingers begin to undo the button and fly of his pants.

She tugs the fabric down, just enough that his cock can spring free, achingly hard and skin flushed red, as a bead of precum collects at the head.

Rey reaches forward, experimentally grips him. He's too large for her hand, her fingers unable to enclose around his width fully. For a moment, she holds him, gently squeezes, slowly increasing the pressure, and enjoying the view. His eyelids begin to flutter, and the way the rhythm of rise and fall of his chest quickens.

Her eyes remain fixated upon him as she leans forward, her tongue darting out to lap at the tip, tasting the heady, salty flavor that is so uniquely him.

Ben inhales sharply, his hand jerks forward as his fingers become tangled in her hair. She takes him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and twisting her tongue, running just the tip over every ridge and groove, every vein and bit of soft, taut skin.

She’s not experienced by a long shot, but there had been an instance in a third floor bathroom at Hogwarts during her seventh year, and a handful of drunken one night stands where she had been feeling both giving and bold.

But, like the first time they had sex—the first time he had fucked her against the dresser, had made her come on his fingers, on his cock—Rey knew that anything she’d done would pale in comparison with what she would do with Ben..

This would be no exception.

His hold on her hair tightens. Ben gives a shape yank before twisting, knotting the strands over and over each of his digits.

“Rey—“ Her name falls from his lips like a warning, but to her it sounds more like encouragement, so she tries to take more of him in—to taste and explore every inch of his cock. 

Her head continues to bob, the speed and pressure of her tongue, her lips erratic around him, much like his grip on her hair. 

A warbled, choking noise begins to bubble from his throat, and all she can think is  _ yes, yes _ . Even as the head of his cock hits the back of her throat and she gags around him, Rey is still determined to unravel him bit by bit until he’s screaming her name and coming on her tongue.

Rey sucks harder, lifting a hand to blindly grip the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric in her fingers as she attempts to hold him in place. Her neck begins to ache as she continues to look up at him—twatching and gauging every minute reaction and response. Her eyes water as he jerks his hips forward, fucking himself into her mouth.

“ _ Rey— _ “ Another warning. Her scalp is burning in protest against his fingers, but unknowingly, he merely tightens his hold. She loves the way he’s unraveling before her very eyes, under each suck and swipe of her tongue. If she is to die in a duel, to go up in a blast of green light at the hands of Snoke or one of his followers, Rey can only hope that this is the last memory that flashes in her mind. That she succumbs to death with the vision of Ben Solo, lips parted and eyes shut, as he comes undone, all because of her. 

Rey darts forward as his hips jut, the rhythm deliciously erratic and spontaneous. She can feel him growing tight, and his entire body go rigid.

He comes with her name falling from his lips, his voice, broken and hoarse as it echoes off the cave walls. Hot cum hits the back of her throat, and she eagerly drinks him down, her tongue lapping up each and every last drop of the intoxicating, salty taste.

Rey removes her mouth from him with an obscene  _ pop _ . A string of saliva still connects them, a tether between her swollen red lips and the tip of his half hard cock. She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, enjoying the way her lips tingle—a welcome side effect from so much vigorous activity.

Rey leans back on her haunches, one palm against the ground to steady her shaking legs. Once more, she looks up at Ben, and this time, the sight is even more delicious.

He’s breathing heavily. Somehow, his hair has grown mussed, and his cock still hangs, partially erect, and looking positively wet—a mixture of her spit and the remnants of his cum. It’s the look in his eyes—heavy-lidded with lust—that sends a shiver down her spine. His lips begin to curl upwards, not into a smile, no, but a predatorial smirk.

“My turn.” He murmurs, like a sacred vowl, and Rey has no doubt in her mind that it’s a promise in which he intends to keep.

And keep it he does. Despite the seclusion of the cave and the warmth of the fire, the air is too cold to strip entirely naked. But god, all Rey wants to do is to lay out on top of the sleeping bag so they can explore one another’s bodies. Just like they had back in Ben’s room at Grimmauld place, when time had been in a seemingly endless supply.

Instead, they settle for what they’ve got—pants and knickers shoved down and aside. His hands snake up underneath the hem of her top, palming her breasts before giving them a feverish squeeze. 

The cups of her bra push upwards, and soon his head joins his hands, hidden beneath her top, stretching the fabric. The tip of his nose skates across her skin, around and between her breasts, before his mouth encircles her right nipple. His tongue laps and teases at the sensitive bud, while his fingers toy with its twin—pinching and prodding in a way that makes Rey squirm.

“Patience.” Ben mouths at the skin of her breasts, his voice curls over her skin, hot and enticing. Goose flesh breaks out—and suddenly—every layer Rey wears is too rough, too thick, _ too much _ .

Whining, Rey blindly reaches for his cock, her fingertips clutching at his back, his arms as she tries to worm her hands between their bodies, wanting to feel him hard and ready once again.

Ben shifts out of her reach, and she hears a muffled chuckle from underneath her shirt. In protest, she jerks her hips forward, rubbing herself against him. The friction feels good, but only adds to the pressure that has begun to build between her legs. Her panties were wet before she even had tasted his cock, and the smell of sex wafts heavily in the air, mingling with the scent of the campfire smoke.

“Ben.” Rey grinds against him again, lifting her ass off of the ground to try and press as much of her body into his. His response is to bite at her nipple, her left one now, and she yelps at the sharp pressure. His tongue laps over it in apology, before Rey feels his hot mouth on her skin, certainly leaving a bruise in his wake.

In the meantime, his hands have begun to wander. Fingertips dip under the waistband of her knickers, and she inhales a sharp breath when she feels him brush against the thatch of wiry curls. He slips from his post beneath her shirt, leaving her bare breasts exposed to the cold, but Rey doesn’t care. Who could be cold when they had such a hot fire burning from within? 

Ben leans over her, and Rey can feel his eyes drinking in every shift of her features—from the pebbled sight of her nipples, to every inch of her exposed skin.

“My turn to watch,” He proclaims in a low growl as the pad of his thumb swipes over her clit.

Rey gasps, an electric shock radiates through her body, and all her mind can think is  _ more, more, more. Again, again, again. _

“You like that, sweetheart?”

She nods her head, her lip begins to tremble and her teeth bite down, sinking into the soft, swollen flesh.

He’s at her entrance now, stroking at the slit, and Rey’s head lulls back, her eyes drifting shut. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip more as yet again her hips rise to meet his touch.

“I can’t hear you,” Ben teases, and despite her closed eyes, Rey can hear the smirk in his words.

“Yes.” She gasps, eyes shooting open just as she feels him press a finger inside of her, moving the digit in shallow thrusts. He adds a second finger, increasing his pace as Rey’s cry mixes with the lewd, slick sound of his flesh between her folds.

Her climax builds yet it’s still not enough. Even as her body cants to meet his hand, even as her own fingers mix with his, rubbing and swiping at her clit, trying to bring it all to a head, she still needs something more.

She needs him, and it’s something that even without words, he seems to understand.

Ben pushes her legs apart, spreading her as wide as she can, while her pants and knickers pool around her ankles, becoming nothing more than a tangled mess. He kneels between her thighs, gripping his cock—once again hard and ready—stroking himself as his eyes rake down her body from her face andher breasts, to her wet, throbbing cunt.

There’s a slight shift in his eyes as they meet hers. It doesn’t last long, it could’ve missed by a blink, and yet—Rey sees it. Sees the softness that lies beneath the desire and the want. She sees that this is something  _ more. _

Then it’s over, consumed by the fire as he’s pushing into her at a tantalizing slow pace.

Rey hisses, and his body goes rigid above her. It takes a moment to adjust to his size, but then she’s beginning to move—-shifting as she takes him in inch after inch—-until his hips are flush against hers and she can feel him sliding home.

“Move,” She pants the order and Ben doesn’t hesitate. Instead, he pulls back, almost entirely withdrawals from her before he slams back in. He repeats the action over and over again, increasing the feverish pace with each thrust.

Together, they move, chasing that climax, that high. He begins to chant her name mixed with a shower of praise and compliments. “Good girl. Yeah, like that. What a good little cunt you have, stretching and opening for my cock.”

Rey finds herself preening at it, wanting it more and more of his voice rumbling the things that made her shiver. She spreads her thighs, moves faster against him until everything bubbles over, and she’s seeing stars in her eyes. Rey comes with a cry followed by his name. “Ben. Ben.  _ Ben _ .”

He comes inside of her, filling her up until she’s utterly full to the brim, and his cum has no choice but to dribble out, trickling down her thighs.

For a moment, they both go quiet and still except for their heaving chests and panting breaths that mingle together in the air.

His hair hangs like a dark curtain, framing his face, and Rey can’t help but to reach up, to thread her fingertips through the inky black locks, watching as the strands fall through the spaces between.

The soft smile that spreads across her lips feels both natural and right, but that’s not what surprises her. No, it’s the way his expression mirrors her own, lingering for a moment before he ducks his head down for a kiss.

Eventually, they untwine their bodies and straighten their clothes and into the sleeping bag together, feeling sedated and worn. 

The scent of sex and sweat linger in the air. Rey's thighs feel sticky, his cum mixed with her own and beginning to dry but she finds she doesn’t dislike the feeling. Instead it feels almost nice, like yet another reminder of what had just happened.

His one arm wraps around her, drawing her back up against his chest, while the other tucks underneath Rey’s head, serving as a makeshift pillow. 

She feels comfortable, cozy and safe, despite the situation, and the cold, hard stone floor beneath them.

Despite everything, this feels good. This feels right.

It makes what she has to do an even more bitter pill to swallow, but Rey doesn’t want to think about that. Not when there’s still a few hours until morning light.

Instead, she closes her eyes and rolls over and buries her face in the crook of his arm. Inhaling his scent, Ben begins to comb his fingers through her hair.

“Rey?”

She hums her response, the adrenaline from earlier long faded away, and sleep hovers on the horizon. Her body feels boneless, her mind sedated, a sensation only aided by the tips of his fingers moving across her scalp.

“Thank you for trusting me.” He whispers into her ear, but Rey’s mind doesn’t register his words, for she has already drifted off, succumbing to the darkness.

She misses the way he plays with her hair, and the way his mouth brushes over her forehead, the shell of her ear, and the back of her neck.

But then he’s burrowing in behind her, burying his face into her hair, and soon, nothing fills the air apart from the occasional crackle of dying embers and the soft sound of their breathing.

***

Dawn breaks. Beams of sunlight stream in through a couple cracks in the caves wall.

Ben stretches, reaches out his arms to search for her, but he feels nothing but the cold nylon of the sleeping bag. It’s empty. There's nothing but the hard floor and walls of the cave around him.

He bolts to his feet and a surge of adrenaline washes away the last of the sleep.

Ben looks around, confirming what he already knows in the pit of his stomach yet his mind does not want to accept.

There’s no Rey in sight. She’s gone.

“ _ Fuck _ !” 

The single word echoes across the cave’s walls. His fingers clench, curling inward into fists as he lashes out on the campsite, throwing and kicking everything in his path until the contents of the cave lie in ruin.

Standing there, shoulders hunched and heaving with every labored breath, his bod trembles with the aftershocks of his rage.

Ben knows where she went. And fuck, he should have known. He should have done something to stop her, to prevent it. Because of  _ course  _ she went to try and save her friends, went off to be the goddamn hero of the Resistance.

She went running straight into the lion's den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to follow me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/shuhannon)


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